


Flight

by Salchat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22752508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salchat/pseuds/Salchat
Summary: A desert world is discovered where the inhabitants glide between tall columns of rock.  Sounds like a playground for Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. A New World

John woke and the first thing he saw was a bird outside his window. Gull-like, it hovered and bobbed, riding the uneven air currents, adjusting a wing tip here, a flight feather there, spreading its weight on the wind, moving instinctively to adjust its course. He pushed himself up on one elbow, rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, watching the bird. It shifted, caught an updraft and was gone, soaring high among the towers of Atlantis.

John flopped onto his back, arms spread. His fingers twitched. To be able to make the tiniest movements, to feel the threads of air adjusting as you moved; that was the kind of flight that he had always been searching for. Of all the aircraft he had flown, the Jumpers were the most instinctive, responding to his thoughts via the Ancient gene. But it wasn't a direct experience; it was mental rather than physical, not the raw power of the wind that the birds felt.

There came a hammering at the door. "Sheppard!" Ronon, ready for their morning run.

"Coming!" John yelled, grabbed some of his strewn clothes, and, thoughts of flight forgotten for now, began his day.

oOo

"So, here we have the MALP footage from P3Z-714, which was next on the list in the Ancients' database," began Rodney in his usual abrupt 'Time waits for no man' fashion. "As you can see, nothing of immediate interest, readings show the atmosphere is compatible with human life... et voilà!"

The MALP footage showed a section of burnished blue-gold sky into which two curious faces had suddenly appeared.

"Wait a minute, Rodney," interrupted John. "I thought Lieutenant Williams' team were assigned to this one. They went there yesterday."

"And so they were, and so they did!" agreed Rodney, irritably. "And your oh-so-delightful Marines, having made a number of pertinent observations, have swiftly and astutely referred this one back to their superiors!" He emphasized the last word.

John was about to bristle in defence of his loyal Marines and then decided that, as far as Rodney was concerned, this amounted to a compliment.

Rodney spun his laptop around to face the rest of the table. "Video footage of the immediate area," said Rodney succinctly.

Four pairs of eyes turned to the screen. Colonel Samantha Carter leant forward slightly, the familiar thrill at viewing a new world for the first time clearly visible on her face. Teyla sat calmly, hands clasped loosely in front of her, wondering if this would be a world known to her people. Ronon slouched back in his seat, his casual attitude belied by the gleam in his eyes; he was ready for a challenge, especially if there were Wraith to be dealt with. Colonel Sheppard took a sip of his coffee and thought: _Trees. It'll be trees again._

Rodney pressed a button and the screen came to life.

The Stargate was obviously situated on some kind of elevation, as the view looked down over the dusty plain of a red, desert world. Dotted about the plain were tall, narrow rocky columns. It was difficult to tell how tall as, for now, there was nothing to give scale. The camera panned around and the focus adjusted to zoom in on one of the columns. There were windows, or holes of some kind; rows of them, starting near the top and descending over half way, but not all the way, to the ground. The camera zoomed back out, moving over the surface of the plain, showing pools here and there, from which vapour was rising. Suddenly from one of the pools a geyser erupted and sprayed droplets of water and clouds of steam out into the air.

"Cool," remarked Ronon.

"Those columns, are they inhabited?" asked Colonel Carter.

Rodney held up a quelling hand. "Wait for it!" he said.

Something flitted across the screen.

"Was that a bird?" asked Teyla.

Again, something moved across the screen, but further away, so that this time it could be seen that it was a type of glider. The camera panned round, zooming in and out to show gliders soaring between the columns, their paths criss-crossing; others, far out over the plain ascended in lazy spirals in the hot air rising from the volcanic pools. The gliders appeared to each have one occupant, suspended beneath a wide, flexible wing in some kind of harness, like an Earth hang glider.

"The main mode of transport, apparently, of the J'bari, as they call themselves," said Rodney. "They never set foot on the ground due to, and I quote, 'beasts which rise from the sand to devour'".

"I do not think I would like to fly one of those!" said Teyla.

"We'll take a Jumper," said Ronon.

"Ah, now there we have a slight problem!" said Rodney. "The J'Bari consider their skies to be sacred and flying is to them, almost like a religion. They made it quite clear to Lieutenant Williams' team that any violation of their airspace would not be welcomed."

"That must make it difficult to establish diplomatic relations with other worlds," commented Sam. "What exactly do they have to offer, Rodney?"

"Here we come to footage of the levels tunnelled into the rock beneath the Gate," said Rodney. "The column where the gate is situated is one of the narrower ones, only housing a few basic facilities."

The video changed to a dim interior scene.

"That looks like Ancient architecture," said Sam. 

"It does indeed!" said Rodney. "And if we combine that interesting feature with this..." The footage changed back to an outside scene, a close-up of a man wearing the glider harness, wings sweeping wide at his back.

"Wraith-tech!" said Ronon.

The harness the man was wearing covered most of his arms and upper body. It looked like a kind of thin, soft leather, but appeared to have wires, or veins running through it.

"It certainly has the appearance of some kind of living technology, possibly Wraith-derived." Rodney sat back, folding his arms. "So, Colonel Reckless, you haven't said anything yet!"

John looked down, a small smile playing over his lips. "Well," he said slowly, "Ancient and Wraith tech. We should check that out."

"Oh, come on, Sheppard!" said Rodney, "just admit it! You can't wait to get one of those gliders and throw yourself off the highest column you can find!"

"The thought may have crossed my mind," John drawled. 

Seeing Rodney drawing a deep breath, about to respond, Sam interrupted.

"So, these people, the J'Bari, are happy for us to come and study their technology and culture?"

"Yes, as long as we respect their ways, misguided ways in my opinion," replied Rodney.

"Well then," Sam said brightly, "this looks like a good fit for your team, Colonel Sheppard. Your objectives: to find out about the history, culture and technology of the J'Bari, also any Wraith activity on the planet and what, if anything they can usefully trade. First on the agenda, however should be a test-flight of one of those gliders. Establish whether it's feasible for our personnel to use them."

"And that's the cat with its face firmly in the cream!" announced Rodney, looking at John's expression.

"I'm allowed to enjoy my work occasionally, Rodney!" grinned John.

"Have you flown such a craft before, Colonel?" asked Teyla.

"Coupl'a times," John replied casually. "The Earth type, that is." He peered at the video, now paused on an image of the arid orange-red landscape. "Kinda reminds me of Monument Valley. Except these rock formations are narrower. And then there are those hot springs. Could be some interesting air currents to play with."

"Mission set for oh-eight hundred tomorrow, then," said Sam, standing up. "John," she said, as the others filed out of the room. He stopped and looked back. "I won't say be careful, but don't take any unnecessary risks, will you?"

He smirked mischievously. "Of course not!"


	2. Test Flight

Two J'Bari had been there to greet them as they came through the gate. The woman, N'Sira, had happily taken Teyla down a narrow staircase cut into the rock which led to the levels beneath the Stargate.

"It will be cool below," she had said. "We may have refreshment and I will tell you of our history and culture!"

Ronon had looked at John and John nodded; words were not needed. Ronon followed Teyla down the stairs, a solid presence if back-up were required.

Rodney, scientific instincts sparking, was already examining a glider and its harness, one of several neatly standing in a frame, rather like bicycles in a rack.

"My name is Hadra," said the man, "you are interested in our gliders?"

Rodney had taken out his datapad and was about to attach some sensors to the glider.

"Rodney," John put his hand on Rodney's arm. "Let's introduce ourselves first and we'll see if that's OK with Hadra, shall we?"

"Oh, yes," he turned to their guide. "Dr Rodney McKay, can I...?" He gestured at the glider.

"Our gliders are very precious to us" said Hadra, "but you may examine them with care."

"Colonel John Sheppard," John introduced himself.

"Ah, Colonel, you are here to be tested, yes?"

"Uh, tested?" asked John. "You mean like a test flight?"

"Let me explain," said Hadra, seriously. "You and your team are welcome to our hospitality here, on the Pinnacle of the Gate, but if we are truly to become allies and invite you into the rest of our dwelling places and our society, one at least of your number must be accepted by the sacred skies."

"And what precisely does that involve?" asked Rodney, suspiciously.

"You must show that you can fly, of course," said Hadra, smiling.

Rodney muttered something under his breath about people who smile too much and John nudged him with his elbow. Turning to Hadra he said, "I'd like to... er... be accepted by the skies, so if you could just show me how to use one of these things, that'd be great!"

"I can show you how to get into the harness, but I fear I cannot show you how to fly. If the instinct is not there..." Hadra waved his hands vaguely.

Rodney swallowed convulsively. "Then he plummets to his death, is that it? What is it with you people?"

"Calm down, Rodney," said John. "It'll be fine! What do I do?"

Hadra looked at him thoughtfully. "You cannot wear that," he said, pointing to John's tac vest. "You would not be able to feel the connections properly. Nor those," he pointed to John's boots. "They are much too bulky."

John took off the offending items, noticing that Hadra wore light, close-fitting clothes and shoes. His clothes were made of a plain cloth that was undyed, but adorned with swirls of decorative stitching in the same creamy colour.

"Then if you stand here," Hadra indicated a place in front of the glider rack, "you can slide up into the harness while the rack takes the weight."

John did as he was directed. It was a bit like putting on a large, leathery sweater, thin and with a strangely veined texture. It seemed to mold itself to his shape and he felt a slight tingling, almost like the sensation he had when connecting with the Ancient chair or a Jumper. 

"Now if you take a step forward," directed Hadra, "I'll slide the wings out. They'll feel quite heavy, but they're very light for their size."

Again, John did as he was told and he felt the weight dragging down on his shoulders. He looked to either side and saw the wings sagging down, trailing on the ground. They too were thin and leathery, rather like bats' wings, but dissimilar in shape in that they came together to a point above his head like the apex of an Earth hang glider. There were thick, flexible connections joining the wings to the back of the harness. John tentatively moved his arms; the wings sprang up wildly and he nearly fell over.

"Whoa! Careful, Sheppard," complained Rodney, "you'll sweep me over the edge!"

"Keep back, McKay," John grumbled. "I don't know how to handle these things yet."

"You should walk around first," said Hadra. "Move your arms to see how they work. If you cannot get a feel for them you should not take the test."

"Just give me a couple of minutes!" said John, determined that he would be able to fly the strange glider. He cautiously raised his arms, spreading them out and feeling the wings respond eagerly. It was difficult to make his movements small and subtle enough; too sudden or too large a movement and he nearly lost his balance. 

"The wings respond easily, don't they?" said Hadra. "They are designed to interpret electrical impulses, but they have their own strength. We do not have the large breastbone or pectoral muscles that birds have, so the wings' mechanism must do that work."

John was feeling more comfortable. He noticed something was trailing along behind him. It looked like a bit like a section of a cocoon. "What's that?" he asked.

"That is for your legs," said Hadra. "You take off over there, by running down the ramp. Then you tuck your legs up into that. You will find it too responds to your movements, giving you greater control of the wings."

"OK," said John. "I think I've got this. Show me where to launch from."

Hadra led him to a section of the column where the rock sloped away at an angle of about forty-five degrees for a few metres and then dropped, sheer, a fall of three hundred feet or more to the harsh red sand below.

"You must study the land," instructed Hadra. "Use the rising currents of air to gain height. See, there are columns of hot air over the volcanic pools, but you must be careful: they are not consistent."

John flexed his arms, feeling the wings above him respond.

"What happens if I lose too much height?" he asked. "Can I climb up inside one of the columns?"

"No!" Hadra said sharply. He looked shocked. "You must not land on the earth below! The beasts that devour would feel your movement through the trembling of the ground and would rise to engulf you!"

"OK," John said slowly, "that's a definite 'no', then!"

John stood at the edge of the launching ramp, peering down. He bounced on his toes slightly and rolled his shoulders making the wings flex and ripple.

"I suppose I should be worried about this," he said to Rodney, who stood, fidgeting, face pale, well back from the edge. "I mean, unknown technology, extreme height... could be a bad combination." Then the familiar quirky grin broke out and his eyes gleamed. "Who am I trying to kid?" he said, and with a massive surge of adrenaline and a joy-filled whoop, he spread his arms, ran helter-skelter down the ramp and launched himself out into the air.

The flight could have ended in disaster immediately as John felt a huge updraft lift him and he rose, wildly uncontrolled, the apex of the glider's wings tilting up higher and higher until it was nearly vertical. John felt his impetus failing and knew he would fall if he couldn't reorient himself. Instinct took over and somehow John found himself slipping sideways out of the updraft, adjusting his arms until he could feel the air supporting him more evenly. He brought himself into a smooth glide and, taking a deep, steadying breath, looked around. The Stargate was at about eight o'clock, low; he had plenty of height for now, but needed to keep an eye on the land beneath him and in particular, the hot spring that Hadra had recommended as the source of a thermal. John had slipped his legs into the cocoon-like section behind him in his initial leap, so his body was fully supported. He decided to experiment, flexing his arms and legs a little here, a little there, shifting his weight this way and that, feeling the air rushing past, his rate of descent slowing or accelerating according to his movements and some indefinable quality of the supporting atmosphere. He scanned the ground and banked right, aiming for the blue-green circle of the volcanic pool. Feeling a slight lift in one wing he leant into it, the thermal buoying him up. He climbed, right wing slightly dipped, turning in to spiral slowly, the pool dropping away below. Watching the ground revolve beneath him John marvelled in the sensations of his flight; the twitching of his arms as if the air were a rough surface he was sliding over, the rush and roar of the wind in his ears, the overwhelming power and joy of the freedom of the sky. He had never felt so alive and wondered if flying an aircraft would ever be the same.

Having gained sufficient height John decided to try some more advanced manoeuvres. He would need a handy thermal or updraft to aim for and he didn't trust the one he'd just risen on; the air looked too clean somehow, as if a rising current should have a faint red haze of dust borne aloft. He spotted another glider heading for an area of bubbling volcanic mud; he would trust the local and aim for that. John banked and turned, trying to keep as much height as possible for as long as he could until he was nearly above his target. Then, picking a spot on the ground to aim for, he tucked in his wings and plummeted, headfirst at the ground like a stooping bird of prey, slicing through the air, faster and faster until the last minute when he spread his wings wide and back, catching the wind, using it as a brake. He thought for a split second that he'd left it too late as the red earth filled his vision, but then his wings slowed his descent and he felt the lift of the thermal, the subtle pushing under one wing. He leant into it and turning, slowly began to rise.

oOo

Rodney had both hands clasped over his mouth, watching in absolute horror, emitting an occasional terrified squeak. When John had literally run off the side of the cliff and been flung into the air by the force of the updraft, he was sure it was all over; the glider would either smash against the column, or plummet down to the unforgiving sands below. How John managed to avoid those fates Rodney didn't know as by the time he had opened his eyes, the glider was sailing serenely through the sky somewhere high up to his right. His breath steadying somewhat, he watched as John gained control, adjusting his trajectory here and there but obviously quite at home in the sky.

"Your friend flies naturally!" said Hadra. "The sky accepts him as if he were J'Bari."

Rodney gave him a weak smile and carried on watching John's progress. He saw the glider lose height and then rise, slowly swirling on a thermal. Rodney felt himself begin to relax. Then the glider appeared to fold up and began dropping like a stone.

"He attempts a dive," said Hadra pleasantly.

Rodney turned away from the sight of the sickening plunge, heart pounding.

"Ah!" he heard Hadra exclaim, and he whirled round, frantically scanning the sky.

"What? What happened? Where is he?" he spluttered.

"A late recovery. Your friend enjoys the element of danger, I think?" commented Hadra.

Rodney, didn't reply, still trying to spot John against the glare of the desert sky.

There was a sudden rushing and thudding sound and Rodney spun round again to find John, standing behind him, wings furled at his back, looking windswept and extremely pleased with himself.


	3. A Challenge

Rodney had his eyes closed again.

"Maybe I should just stay here and analyse the readings I took from the gliders?" he said, studying the red glow as the afternoon sun tried to penetrate his eyelids.

"It'll be fine, McKay!" came John's voice from in front of him. "You just have to sit there and let me do all the work!"

"That's the problem!" said Rodney, through gritted teeth. "If my mind has nothing to do it gets filled with things like, oh, I don't know, my imminent, gruesome death, smashed to pieces on the stony desert floor, or if I survive that, ripped apart by some kind of horrific beast, so horrific they don't even seem to have a name!" His voice became higher, his words tumbling over each other in his panic.

He felt a prod on his shoulder. "Rodney, open your eyes." Rodney's eyes flew open and their wide panicked blue looked into calm, reassuring hazel. "It'll be fine."

John turned to face the edge of the cliff again. "You ready?" he said. "Because I'm running and you're coming with me!"

"No! Not ready!" squeaked Rodney.

"Three!"

"I said no!"

"Two!"

"Really, Sheppard, no!"

"One!"

"Oh, this is not happening!"

"Go!"

John ran down the ramp, and Rodney, with no choice in the matter, ran with him, eyes tight shut, scream strangled in his throat. The tandem glider launched and rose into the air, catching the updraft perfectly, soaring smoothly and banking to turn. John aimed for a hot spring over which several gliders were slowly spiralling upwards. From there he would make his way to the large stone column that stood in the centre of the others, where Hadra had said they could meet the elected council and take part in a celebratory banquet.

John and his team had been surprised when Hadra had said they could all travel in tandem gliders to the central column. Teyla and Ronon could have been described as somewhat apprehensive, Rodney blatantly terrified. The tandem gliders were bigger, with a double harness so that the passenger travelled behind and above the pilot. A fourth glider was to bring their packs and weapons. Ronon and Teyla set off first, each with a J'Bari pilot; Rodney had taken a little longer to convince.

"Are your eyes still shut, McKay?" asked John. "You're missing a great view!"

"As long as we're missing any obstacles, including, say, the ground, then that's all I need to know," Rodney replied, his voice strained.

"Oh, come on, you fly in Jumpers all the time, what's so different?" asked John.

"There's a bit more between me and a plummeting, screaming drop to the unforgiving earth than a flimsy harness of unknown provenance, that's what's so different!" spluttered Rodney.

"Do you think it's Wraith?" asked John.

"No. I don't know yet," Rodney replied uncertainly. "It has similarities. Almost like it's pre-Wraith, proto-Wraith, or some kind of parallel development with Wraith-tech. Oh."

"What?"

"I forgot to keep my eyes closed," said Rodney. John had caught the thermal and they were rising steadily, the landscape revolving in slow circles around them.

"I suppose it's pretty amazing, in a vomit-inducing kind of way," Rodney said.

"Hey, you're not going to, are you?" said John, conscious that he was in the firing line.

"I'll let you know," replied Rodney.

Having gained the height they needed, John shifted his weight to come out of the thermal and he allowed the glider to drift steadily toward their destination. He could see the large column, which Hadra had referred to as Central Halls. It looked about six hundred feet tall by about one hundred feet wide and as they approached, John was surprised to see greenery on the top; trees, small fields and even pools. He could hear Rodney murmuring behind him about irrigation systems as he aimed for an open space and flexed his arms slightly to slow their descent.

"Get ready, McKay," he warned.

"Oh! Yes, right, landing," said Rodney.

John brought the glider in as gently as he could; he didn't want to arrive in an undignified heap and create a bad impression. They touched down and managed to co-ordinate their steps to bring the glider to a fairly efficient halt. Then there were helping hands and smiling faces all around, relieving them of the weight of the glider, helping them out of the harness and gathering their possessions.

John looked around at the helpful J'Bari, all wearing similar clothes to Hadra, their only variety in the patterns of complex, cream-on-cream decorative stitching, invisible from more than a few steps away. John wondered if this subtlety was a sign that there was more to these friendly people than initially met the eye.

Teyla and Ronon stood waiting nearby. John grinned at them. "Have fun? he asked.

"The flight was most exhilarating!" smiled Teyla.

"It was cool," Ronan shrugged.

"Did you enjoy your flight, Rodney?" asked Teyla.

"More endured than enjoyed," he replied.

Hadra led them down a broad staircase cut into the rock.

"I will show you to guest quarters where you can rest before meeting the Council," said Hadra.

The level below was remarkably reminiscent of Atlantis and yet with subtle differences. Surfaces were faced with the muted natural tones and decorative carvings familiar to the team from their city home, but the atmosphere was more closed, and the warm red quality of the light could not be mistaken for the bright freshness of Atlantis' marine environment.

They were shown to a suite of interlinking rooms and Hadra gestured to the tray of drinks set out for them, and left.

Ronon threw himself down on a couch and stretched out his long limbs. Rodney sniffed at the pitcher of yellow liquid suspiciously. "Do you think they have citrus here?" he said, pouring a little into a cup.

Teyla, leaning out of the wide window, said, "It seems strange to be in such a room and yet not see the ocean."

John handed her a cup of the yellow liquid and took a sip of his own. It tasted a little like passion fruit.

"So what did you learn from N'Sira?" he asked, sitting down.

Teyla lowered herself thoughtfully onto a padded bench, drawing up her feet to sit cross-legged.

"The J'Bari revere the Ancients, or Founders, as they call them. It appears that the J'Bari were once a nomadic people, eking out a precarious existence in the desert, somewhere to the east. The Ancients brought them here and gave them the columns to live in, which they had tunnelled out and fitted with an irrigation system that brings water from aquifers deep underground. The Founders also taught them the use of the gliders and warned them about the ground-dwelling beasts.”

Teyla paused, her brow wrinkling. "From what I could tell the J'Bari have no record of Wraith attacks before the Founders brought them here, but they do occasionally attempt a cull now. The J'Bari feel that the Founders have left them well-defended and that this is a small price to pay for the life they now lead."

"Wraith-culling, a small price?" said Ronon.

"Well," Teyla sighed, "they are well-defended. If the Wraith attack, the J'Bari retreat into the columns, which somehow seal themselves and are impenetrable to a culling-beam."

"How do they seal themselves?" said Rodney, snatching up his datapad and going over to the window.

"N'Sira did not understand herself and there have been no cullings in her lifetime," replied Teyla.

"So why did the Ancients bring them here?" wondered John.

"Oh, the usual, I should think," said Rodney, over his shoulder, "partly benevolence, partly 'let's see what happens if we hold these primitives up as bait'!"

"You think it was some kind of experiment?" asked John.

"Bound to be," said Rodney. "But it might give us the chance to find something useful. Except..." he peered at the window-frame again, "I can't see anything at all, or detect any energy readings. When do you think the banquet will be? I'm starving!"

oOo

Ronon, in his customary long-legged slouch, was the picture of a man at ease and full of delicious food. His appearance was, as usual, deceptive. His seven long years as a runner had marked him for life and there were very few situations where he could totally relax. At the back of his mind there ran a constant risk assessment, for himself and each member of his team; potential escape routes, both obvious and more unlikely, weapons worn both openly and concealed (Ronon knew a thing or two about concealed weapons) and, although Ronon hadn't particularly thought about it, once or twice he'd caught himself shoving a platter of food out of McKay's reach, subconsciously relegating it, either by taste or colour, to a category labelled 'potentially citrus-like'.

The other element to Ronon's risk assessment was less easy to define. Although he didn't realise it, his time as a runner had made him an excellent judge of character. While Ronon's eyes lazily wandered the room, his brain was picking out all kinds of subtle cues and signals which, for most of the people present added up to Ronon's customary label: 'safe, as long as you have a wapon within reach'. 

The council of ten men and women of varying ages and temperaments had mostly received this label. One or two had been relegated to 'safe, as long as you have a weapon in your hand' and one, an older man with a certain hardness in his eyes, had been labelled 'don't trust even when your weapon is stuck in him'.

The man's name was N'Kishra, and, while showing the newcomers a smiling face, a certain tightening of his jaw and a twitching of his fingers as if wanting to curl them around a weapon revealed to Ronon his hostility, particularly when his eyes rested on John and occasionally on Rodney. Ronon watched him beckon to a group of young men and one of them approached, bent down and listened while N'Kishra murmured in his ear. The young man looked at John and nodded.

N'Kishra stood up and clapped his hands, calling for silence.

"Friends! Councillors!" he said, "In honour of our guests and new allies, I propose a celebratory event: a race!"

There were cries of approval; this was obviously a popular pass-time among the J'Bari.

"My son, N'Feni and his friends are eager to compete against our new Brother of the Skies, Colonel Sheppard," he continued. "Tomorrow, a race from Central Halls to the Needles and back. Do you accept the challenge, Colonel?"

"Yes, I accept," John replied.

There was general applause and N'Kishra sat down, with a satisfied smile.

"What are the Needles?" John asked Hadra.

"A cluster of narrow columns, the furthest out and the last safe haven until you reach the mountains," Hadra replied. "It is a simple course, but can be demanding. The land provides increasingly few opportunities for rising air toward the Needles and those that there are tend to be capricious."

Ronon leant over and spoke quietly to John.

"I don't trust him," he said.

"Who? The N'Kishra guy?" asked John. "Neither do I."

"Or the son," said Ronon. "You should be careful."

"I'm always careful!" said John lightly, but he looked across the room at N'Feni and their eyes met. The young man raised his drink and nodded, smirking. John nodded back.

Ronon did not trust N'Feni's smiling countenance. Tomorrow he would be ready.


	4. The Race

Ronon descended the stone steps into the gloom of the interior. He paused as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. This column, one of the Needles, was not finished inside like the more frequently used columns. The sandstone was bare and penetrated by the occasional window, stark bright holes against the red walls. Ronon had been brought here by an obliging J'Bari and, his sharp tracker's eyes having picked up a slight impression in the dust on the top of this particular Needle, had asked to be set down. The J'Bari had flown off, saying he would pick Ronon up after the race.

Ronon knelt and studied the floor; the signs were subtle, but someone had passed this way recently, leaving very faint scratch marks on the stone. They had descended the stairs, after briefly entering one of the rooms on this level. Ronon glanced into the rooms. They were used for storage; clay jars, maybe some kind of preserve or even alcohol, Ronon speculated. Also some spare wall panels, some bundles of rope and an old glider propped against the wall.

He trod carefully down the stairs, moving silently, back against one wall, blaster in his hand. The level below had a different layout and the one below that different again, sometimes one stairwell, sometimes two, twisting and turning as if following the natural contours of the rock. Ronon scanned each level, alert, picking up every detail of his surroundings, a hunter tracking his prey.

oOo

The race had begun and John, judging the quality of the thermals and the likeliest places for updrafts as well as any of the locals, was in the leading group. The J'Bari, with good-natured rivalry, had set out heckling and taunting each other, but now they were silent, intent on reading the land and the sky to gain any advantage over their competitors. 

John, about to lean into a thermal, was suddenly cut off by another glider slicing across his path. He had to turn suddenly to avoid a collision, losing the thermal and losing height. Was that deliberate? John couldn't be sure and he couldn't afford to be distracted; the ground was becoming perilously close. He banked and turned again, seeking for the subtle lift beneath his wings. It came, but was thread-like, elusive, as if the thermal were dissipating. Slowly, in shallow spirals, John rose, but by the time he'd risen enough to pull out of the airstream, his competitors were far ahead of him. John scanned the landscape; the close-packed Needles loomed in the distance. There should be some fairly fierce air currents in amongst them, it was just a case of finding the heated areas that would lift him up and avoiding the dead, cold patches of shadow.

oOo

Ronon had heard something; a scraping or shifting against gritty stone. The acoustic was confusing. Did it come from behind or in front, above or below? The sound bounced off the rocky interior and Ronon's head flicked from side to side, his back to the wall. He descended another level, slowly, listening intently. His eyes, drawn to movement, saw through a window a group of gliders approaching, aiming to catch an updraft generated by the sun-warmed column. He squinted but couldn't tell if Sheppard was in the group.

The sound came again. Below. It was definitely below him. He crept down the stairs.

oOo

John saw the main group ahead of him. He'd gained a little, catching a sudden fierce rise from a small volcanic pool and using it to swoop through the air in pursuit of the other gliders. He saw the group in various ways take advantage of the updrafts amongst the Needles, then watched them swing around the group of formations and disappear round the far side.

John chose his trajectory carefully, reading the landscape and aiming for a point which, he judged, would give him the best shot at an updraft. He was briefly distracted by a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye; presumably a spectator, viewing the race from its furthest point. He brought the glider in, close to the column, nearly skimming the rock face, searching the air for the lift he needed.

Suddenly he felt the wings fold up around him and impact heavily with his back. John fell, hit the side of the column and skidded and bounced down the sheer rocky surface, struggling to move his arms and regain control. The glider did not respond and he landed hard on the stony ground and rolled several metres out into the open. He lay, head spinning with the shock, his vision a confusion of red stone and blue sky, stunned at the suddenness of his fall. The wings, wrapped round him, had protected him from some damage, but he felt battered and, for the moment, too confused to tell where the pain was coming from. He rolled over, disentangling himself from the crumpled wings and managed to get onto his knees. Struggling, with his arms still in the harness, he straightened out the wings and shook them, trying to re-establish the link and get control. He felt a slight twitch, spread his arms and shook them again and the wings unfurled and seemed to come to life.

"That's more like it!" he said.

John got unsteadily to his feet and, because he was still trembling slightly with shock, for a moment he didn't realise that the ground was trembling too. Small pebbles began to jump and he could feel increasingly strong vibrations through his feet. The phrase 'beasts that devour' flicked into his head. The earth began to shake visibly and then John saw, no more than thirty yards distant and rapidly approaching, a broad furrow of churning red dust, rock and earth. He spun around, and, adrenaline masking the pain of his injuries, ran to the base of the column and began to climb, desperately. It was awkward, the wings dragging him down and twitching and flailing at his back with each movement of his arms, but he had to climb; either he'd reach a window, or he'd get high enough to launch off the column. Below him there was a roar of shattering rock and falling earth as something erupted out of the ground. John did not have time to look down, but he could hear scraping and flailing at the rock beneath him. He felt a tug as something snatched at the glider. He climbed faster, but then there was a sharp pain down the back of his right calf. He snatched his legs up and, breath labouring, reached up frantically for the next handhold. Instead there was something soft: a rope.

oOo

When the group of gliders banked and swung round the Needles to head back toward Central Halls, Ronon leant out of a window and watched them pass. John was not there and Ronon was convinced his separation from the group was part of a plan to sabotage his race, or worse. Ronon shaded his eyes and squinted out into the desert. In the distance, a solitary glider, heading this way. Ronon turned back to the gloom of the interior; on this level there was a curved corridor going round the perimeter and one going through the centre. Ronon moved stealthily round the curved corridor, passed through a dark section where there were no windows, and then a lighter area with a single window. Here, the floor was disturbed, footprints in the dust the whole width of the corridor. There were a few large rocks on the floor. 

A footfall, behind him! Ronon spun around, weapon raised. There was nothing there. Then suddenly, the sound of heavy running footsteps reverberating around the stone walls, filling his ears with confusion. Ronon ran, following the sound, his own footsteps joining the disorienting cacophony. He came to the bisecting corridor and a blur of movement twitched out of sight at the opposite end. He moved fast, round the curved corridor, in order to intercept the saboteur. Half way round, a narrow staircase led down. Ronon stopped still, listening. Silence. He closed his eyes and the faintest sound came from below. Ronon trod, catlike down the stairs. At the bottom there was a large room; empty, but there was a window. Ronon leant out cautiously, his eyes flicking back into the room, his senses fully alert. He saw the solitary glider, definitely John, low down toward the base of the column. The time for caution was over; now was the danger point. Ronon strode across the room. There was a narrow opening half hidden in the gloom and Ronon stepped boldly through, sure the saboteur must be trapped on this level. Light came from above; there was another way, little more than a ladder of stone set into the wall. A sound came from above, a grunt of effort, the clash of rock on rock. Ronon hurled himself up the ladder, hand over hand and burst out into the corridor above just in time to see a silhouetted figure push a large rock out of the window. The figure ran, and Ronon wanted to pursue them, but he needed to see what had happened to his team leader. He leant out of the window. Far below he could see a shape on the ground, a small, crumpled shape that lay unmoving. Ronon shook with anger, one hand clenched around his blaster, the other curled into a white-knuckled fist. The shape stirred and unfolded and Ronon, not realising he'd been holding his breath, let out a long whoosh of air. Sheppard was alive; but Ronon still felt danger in the air. He noticed a swirl of red dust rising and then another and then a subtle haze came over the ground as if the whole area were shifting. He remembered Teyla's words: 'ground-dwelling beasts'. Ronon turned, ran, climbed, ran, climbed and ran again, up and up until he reached the top level. Rope. He grabbed it, ran, down, ran, down again, found a window on the same side as John. He leant out and saw through a cloud of churning dust and rock a horror of gaping mouth, teeth and clawed tentacles. He saw the small, winged figure awkwardly scrambling up the rock face, the tentacles reaching out to grasp it. He braced one end of the rope round his waist and dropped the coils out through the window. It would be long enough. It had to be.


	5. Rope Trick

Ronon felt the rope go taut. He pulled, hand over hand, muscles straining, grunting with the effort. The combined weight of John and the glider should have been too much, but Ronon wasn't going to let a test of strength beat him, especially when his friend's life was at stake.

He couldn't see over the window ledge to check his progress, didn't know if John was in reach of a window; he just had to keep pulling. The rope jerked. He paused, hoping it meant John had found somewhere to climb in. Then it went slack and Ronon staggered back and hit the wall. He slid down and rested his head on his knees, breathing hard, his arms shaking from the effort.

Ronon stood, rubbing his aching shoulders, leant against the windowsill and looked out. A glider, wings slightly misshapen, was slowly drifting back toward Central Halls. Ronon grinned. John had launched himself off the side of the column. Ronon hoped John was safe, for now. He knew the figure who had thrown the rock was long gone. When he had retrieved the rope from the store room the glider that he had thought abandoned had disappeared.

oOo

Teyla watched Rodney pacing back and forth, wringing his hands together. He stopped, peered into the distance and sighed anxiously.

"Where is he?" Rodney said. "The others are all back now. Something's wrong!"

Teyla privately agreed, but tried to be reassuring. "Colonel Sheppard will return soon."

The other competitors had returned, some in groups, some alone, over the last half hour. The winner and runners-up had been taken away for an award ceremony and celebratory drinks. Some of the other competitors still stood around chatting, occasionally glancing at Teyla and Rodney either sympathetically or slightly scornfully; there were obviously some who thought that if novices competed with the experts, they deserved all they got.

Teyla and Rodney waited on the grassy, terraced area, close to the edge of the column. It was like a pleasant park, but neither of them had eyes for their surroundings. Hadra and N'Sira sat on a stone bench a little way off, not sure whether their commiseration would be welcome.

Rodney was still squinting into the distance.

"I think... Is that...?" He hesitated. Then pointed, triumphantly. "Yes, there! Look!"

Teyla looked out across the hazy, dusty red desert, raising her hand to shade her eyes. 

"I believe you are right, Rodney," she smiled.

"There! What did I tell you?" squeaked Rodney. "This is Sheppard we're talking about, of course he's fine!"

They still had to wait another half an hour, watching the glider drift from thermal to thermal, rising in slow spirals and gradually working its way to its destination. Teyla watched uneasily. John did not seem to be flying with any of his usual flair and his glider looked battered and slightly asymmetric. Teyla saw that John had pulled out of a thermal and was making his final approach. The wings drooped and suddenly jerked up again, causing the glider to lose height. 

"He's coming in very low!" said Rodney.

"He will not make it!" said Teyla alarmed.

"Yes he will, just," said Rodney. "But I think he might need help."

They stood, poised, near the edge, arms ready to steady John as he landed. He drifted over the edge of the column, barely six feet above the surface. He made no effort to get his legs under him and simply pancaked onto the dusty grass, Rodney and Teyla grabbing the wings and trying to slow his descent.

Hadra and N'Sira rushed forward and together they folded up the battered wings enough to roll John onto his back. The glider frame was bent and had holes in several places. When they turned it over they could see the harness was torn and John himself was filthy with dust and dried blood. His eyes were closed and he lay, unresponsive.

"Get him out of that thing!" said Rodney.

As they awkwardly pulled John out of the various parts of the harness he began to stir and moan. N'Sira had fetched some water and held it to his lips. He swallowed, choked and spluttered and began to sit up.

"Lie still, John!" said Teyla and hearing her voice John relaxed back down and opened his eyes fully.

"What happened?" said Rodney.

"Something hit me," said John indistinctly. "Then I met one of the beasts." He paused. "Ronon threw me a rope." He closed his eyes again.

"He's fainted again! Wake up Sheppard!" said Rodney urgently, tapping his face.

John's eyes opened again and he glared at Rodney irritably. "I'm just tired," he said. "And for the record, I didn't faint!"

oOo

John had insisted on walking to their quarters, but had needed Rodney supporting him on one side and Hadra on the other. He had just collapsed onto his bed when he heard Ronon's voice. 

"Where's Sheppard?"

Ronon marched in and stood in the doorway of John's room, taking in his torn and bloodstained clothes and general exhaustion.

"I'm getting Keller," he said, and totally ignoring John's protests, turned on his heel and marched out again.

oOo

Several hours later, Dr Jennifer Keller emerged from John's room. She had not enjoyed her first flight in a J'Bari glider, commenting shakily that it was "Very, very high!" and Teyla had had to sit her down and make her drink a strong cup of the local tea before attending to John.

"What's the damage this time?" asked Rodney.

"Well," began Jennifer, "he has a mild concussion and some fairly minor cuts but quite a lot of deep bruising and some strained muscles. And a leg wound that I'm a bit worried about. You're going to have a grumpy Colonel on your hands for a few days."

"He should be in the infirmary," said Teyla.

Jennifer shook her head. "Not unless they'll let us bring a Jumper through. He's not going in one of those gliders for a while, not even as a passenger!" she said firmly.

"Oh, great, does that mean we have to play nurses, because Sheppard's an awful patient!" grumbled Rodney.

"No, I'll stay for a couple of days," conceded Jennifer.

"There is a spare bed in my room," Teyla said, smiling.

oOo

John's uneasy sleep was disturbed by raised voices. He could hear Rodney's biting sarcasm alternating and sometimes overlapping with Ronon's terse rumble and various voices he didn't recognise. It sounded like a discussion that was rapidly getting out of hand. He sat up slowly and eased his legs off the side of the bed. He was very stiff. Band aids on his elbows and knees pulled at his skin as he moved and his right leg throbbed as he set it to the floor. He could hear Rodney becoming more agitated. He sighed, gritted his teeth and stood, wincing. He debated clothes, couldn't see any, decided anyone who didn't want to see him in his boxers and t-shirt could just leave.

When he opened the door and stood, leaning against the frame, the voices abruptly ceased. John was confronted with a sea of faces turned toward him, variously horrified, concerned or angry. His team and Dr Keller, as well as Hadra, N'Sira and two councillors had apparently been involved in a heated discussion.

"What's going on?" he said, breaking the silence

"Colonel Sheppard, you shouldn't be up!" said Jennifer, moving toward him.

"It sounds like I should," he said. "What's this about?"

"It's about the fact that these... these imbeciles won't believe Ronon!" spluttered Rodney. "They say it was just a rock fall, just an accident!"

"Rock falls are common around the Needles, and we do not take kindly to being insulted!" said one of the councillors, angrily.

"Well we don't take kindly to people plotting to kill the Colonel!" retorted Rodney.

The councillors immediately began to respond and Rodney began talking again at the same time, punctuated by Ronon's gruff encouragement. John limped further into the room, holding up his hands. 

"Just stop!" he said with an authority that was undermined by his having to accept Jennifer's help to reach the couch, which he sank onto, gratefully. He let his head fall back for a moment, eyes closed, lips pressed tightly together. He opened his eyes to find everyone watching him, which was embarrassing.

"Look," he said, "I didn't see what happened." The councillors looked relieved. "But if Ronon says someone dropped a rock on me, then they did."

One of the councillors opened his mouth to speak, but John interrupted. "You don't want to think one of your people tried to kill me, which I can understand." He paused, thinking. "The question we both should be asking is: why? Who feels threatened by us? Who's got something to hide? It's in your interests to investigate as much as ours."

"I cannot think of any J'Bari who would want to harm you!" said one of the councillors. "But I suppose we could make some enquiries," he conceded.

"We will leave you to rest," said the other councillor, and they left along with Hadra and N'Sira.

"Something doesn't add up here," said John, rubbing his face tiredly and then wincing as he encountered a bruise. "These people are meant to have Ancient defences, but where are they?"

"There are no readings on any of my sensors," said Rodney.

"Then we come along wanting to learn about their technology," continued John, "and we're targeted straight away." He sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "Prime suspect?" he asked.

"That N'Kishra guy," said Ronon.

John was about to continue, when Jennifer intervened.

"That's enough for tonight!" she said. "The Colonel should be in bed and so should we! You can talk strategy in the morning!"

John caught Ronon and Teyla's eyes and they both nodded slightly; they would alternate keeping watch through the night, no matter what Jennifer said.

John struggled to his feet and found Rodney ready to support him.

"And here I was thinking: nice safe world, gliders for you to play with, tech on which I might conceivably exert my considerable intellect." Rodney sighed. "But no, we end up with the usual plotting and mystery." He helped John to lower himself to the bed.

John let out a huff of amusement. "I guess I should call Ronon Scooby instead of Chewie," he said.

Rodney's brow furrowed. "That makes me Velma, doesn't it?" he said, crossly.

John grinned.

"Oh well, goodnight then, Shaggy!" said Rodney.


	6. The Archive

The following morning, John having been confined to bed with a hefty dose of painkillers, Rodney and Teyla set out to find the J'Bari archives to see if they could find any record of the defensive system. Hadra had directed them to the archivist, an elderly J'Bari named Jebra, who had been enjoying the morning sun on a roof terrace overlooking an orchard but seemed pleased enough, nevertheless, to show them his territory.

The archives, he informed them as they made their way deep into the centre of the column, were stored in a windowless complex over several of the lowest levels of Central Halls.

"You must not stray beyond the first level without a guide," said Jebra pointing a tremulous finger at them in warning. "The secret of the Archive is known only to a few."

"What secret?" said Rodney, impatiently. "Why does there need to be a secret?"

Jebra wheezed out a laugh. "The secret of how to get out, of course!" He stopped, and beckoned them closer, conspiratorially. "Sometimes the books want to keep their readers!" He gave a sinister chuckle and continued his wheezing way along the corridor.

"This has to be a wind-up!" said Rodney, in disbelief.

They followed Jebra's halting progress down an interminable series of winding stairways until he stopped in front of a door.

"These doors will only open for myself and a privileged few," said Jebra, waving his hand over the control. Rodney raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; there were very few doors that wouldn't open to him with the right persuasion.

The doors slid to either side and they saw a broad corridor ahead of them. When they reached the end they found themselves in a central, circular room. Seven doors led off to antechambers, in which Rodney glimpsed shelving containing books and scrolls. In the very centre of the room a narrow metal spiral staircase descended through the floor. Rodney peered down it, but the floor below was in darkness. 

"You should find what you need in here," said Jebra, tapping an Ancient console that curved around one side of the spiral staircase. "I will wait, in there," he said, gesturing at one of the antechambers. He shuffled away.

"OK, let's see what we've got!" said Rodney, sitting down at the console and flexing his fingers. He set down his laptop to interface with the Ancient database and began to work.

Teyla slowly walked the perimeter of the room. This seemed a strange environment to her, set in the centre of the column, with no access to daylight or fresh air. She supposed it must help to preserve the books. The dull, brown wall panelling and the dry, dusty smell of ancient manuscripts gave the place an oppressive atmosphere. Rodney's muttering seemed to bounce back off the walls and multiply, coming from all directions, as if the books themselves were whispering. Teyla shook herself; this was no time to be fanciful. The prosaic sound of snoring reached her ears and, looking into the next antechamber, she saw the archivist lying on a couch, fast asleep.

"There's nothing useful here," said Rodney, throwing up his hands in disgust. "This data's all corrupted. And," he turned to Teyla with a grim expression on his face, "if I'm any judge, which I am, it's been corrupted deliberately."

Teyla looked at him, frowning. "Then we must search these rooms," she said, gesturing at the antechambers with their ranks of shelves stacked with scrolls and books in various formats.

Rodney looked around unenthusiastically. Databases he could do; he had an affinity for that kind of thing. Hard copies just took too long. Daniel Jackson, now he'd be the ideal research companion in a place like this. He'd hunt out information with the tenacity of a bloodhound; and he would somehow produce great coffee and chocolatey snacks. Rodney sighed; in default of Daniel, they'd just have to do it the hard way.

"There must be some kind of catalogue," he said. "Where did Debra go?"

"Jebra," said Teyla pointedly, "is in there, asleep."

"Well, let's not disturb him, then!" said Rodney. He got up and, looking into the room where Jebra lay, saw a desk with a large ledger-type book open upon it. He beckoned to Teyla. They stepped softly into the room and Rodney immediately saw that the ledger was a record of visitors to the Archive. Jebra had listed them, in an uneven, spidery script as 'off-worlders'. Rodney ran his finger down the list of entries, flicking back and forth through the pages. The Archive was infrequently visited, but one name cropped up repeatedly: N'Kishra.

Teyla had been scanning the shelves; Rodney nudged her and pointed to the entries and she acknowledged his discovery with a raised eyebrow. She she gestured to the shelves, pointing to various labels. An entire shelf of huge, leather-bound tomes was given over to each level of the Archive. The top level contained records of the population; births, marriages, deaths and other significant events. The first sub-level was devoted to records of crop-production, yield of each crop, irrigation and trials of new varieties. Subsequent shelves were more confusing, some having labels for two of the sub-levels. Rodney and Teyla searched the shelves to a background of Jebra's snoring.

Teyla, squatting on the floor, caught Rodney's eye and pointed. Rodney knelt next to her; it appeared that any records of the Founders, as the J'Bari referred to the Ancients, were stored on the lowest levels of the archives. Rodney carefully slid out the volume labelled 'Founding of J'Bar' and set it on the desk. He laboriously turned the large, stiff pages of close-set handwriting, waving an exasperated hand at it and giving Teyla a look that said, "What kind of a system is this?" Teyla's sharp eyes, however, had picked out a block of entries concerning the layout and structure of each column, including, in tiny writing, the words 'defensive system'. The catalogue number was strangely cryptic: '9e/8c, approach from 4e.' Rodney shrugged and copied it down onto a scrap of paper.

They left Jebra, still sleeping and approached the spiral staircase. There was a gate across the top, which wasn't locked, but squeaked alarmingly when Rodney opened it. They both froze, expecting Jebra to awaken, but after a few seconds when there had been no response, they began to descend.

The staircase was very narrow and very steep, its metal stairs and low-railed sides made of decorative curls and leaf-shapes. It reminded Rodney of old-fashioned cast iron garden furniture. The air seemed to grow cooler as they descended, with a stronger scent of old bindings and an acrid, resiny aroma of ancient wooden shelving. Their boots seemed loud on the metal stairs and Rodney felt almost like the silence didn't want to be broken.

They descended past the first sub-level, but then the staircase ended in a central room with various smaller rooms and passageways leading off. It was only dimly lit, with occasional wall-sconces, but in the centre of the room Rodney could see several large reading stands, which he regarded with surprise and nostalgia. They were almost exactly like the stands he remembered in his hometown library that he used to visit regularly as a child; steeply-sloping double-sided lecterns, large enough to spread a broadsheet newspaper either side and with space underneath for two small children to sit on the cross-bars, clutching their reference section treasure and nudging each other in shared excitement at their mathematical and scientific discoveries.

Teyla had already begun to read out the catalogue numbers marked on the shelves. 

"This area is 2a," she said.

"9e/8c, approach from 4e," Rodney reminded himself. "We need to find a way down."

"Should we search separately?" asked Teyla.

"No, I don't think so," said Rodney uneasily. "Let's try this way."

They set off down a narrow, shelf-lined passageway. The shelves were over-filled with books and ledgers of all shapes and sizes and here and there books were piled in precarious stacks. The passageway ended, an entrance to a room on the right their only choice. This room had two choices; another room on the same level or a short flight of stairs leading down.

"Down we go," said Rodney. But having descended the stairs, the next room led to an equally short flight of stairs leading up, followed by a strangely angled corridor, which led back to the central reading room. 

Rodney and Teyla looked at each other. 

"Let us try a different way," Teyla said calmly. "I am sure we will find a way down."

They set off down a different passageway, which shortly led to another small book-lined room. There was a volume open on a stand and Rodney was immediately drawn to the diagram displayed, which seemed to show an irrigation system, the complexity of pipes, ducts, tanks and siphons set out in intricate detail.

Teyla had moved to the far side of the room where there was an exit. 

"This area is not well lit!" she said, drawing out a flashlight from her jacket. She directed the narrow beam into the darkness. "I think there is a way down here, Rodney!"

"Just a minute!" said Rodney, tracing the path of an irrigation pipe with one finger.

"Rodney, this is the way!" came Teyla's voice, more faintly.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" He tore himself away from the diagram and, taking out his own flashlight, followed Teyla. There was a passageway on the left leading to a descending flight of stairs, but stairs also led down straight ahead. 

"Teyla! Which way?" he called.

"I am here, Rodney!"

"Where?"

"Here!" Teyla's voice rang out clearly and Rodney took the passage to the left. He clattered down the stairs, flashlight bouncing off the walls, showing volume-filled shelves even here. He reached the bottom. A single dim yellow light flickered on, producing wavering shadows as if it were candle-light. Suddenly unsure, Rodney called out, "Teyla?" He thought he heard a faint reply, but couldn't tell from which direction it came. Rodney was about to retrace his steps when he thought he heard footsteps in the room ahead. He hesitated; the dim light, the confusing angles of the rooms and the maze-like quality of the place were disorienting. Rodney recalled the archivist's sinister words: "Sometimes the books want to keep their readers!" 

"That's ridiculous!" he said out loud. "Get a grip, McKay!" He strode forward into the next room, but there was nothing there. "Teyla?" There came the sound of footsteps again, but they seemed to come from the room directly above his head. "Teyla!" he called, and this time he thought he heard a response from the room in front of him.

Rodney rushed forward, toward the voice, but suddenly there was nothing under his feet and with a cry of horror he pitched forward into the darkness. He felt the impact of the hard edge of several stairs and his momentum carried him on painfully down the staircase until he landed at the bottom, rolled until he was brought up short by a bookshelf, and lay still.


	7. Discovery

No matter which way he turned in the bed, John could not find a comfortable position and he decided that falling out of the sky and bouncing down the side of a rocky column was not an experience he cared to repeat. Not to mention getting clawed by some kind of tentacled monster. 

He pushed himself up and sat, drooping miserably. He was hot and bored and in pain and all those things were making him unreasonable. And he didn't care. John shuffled over to the edge of the bed and carefully stood. He could see his pack on the floor, but someone had taken out the spare uniform and left it on a chair. He made it to the chair, grabbed the uniform and sat down, heavily. He would have to get the pants on; boxers just wouldn't cut it in J'Bari society. Shirt or t-shirt? Shirt. T-shirts always needed a certain amount of squirming to get into and John's ribs weren't up to squirming. Pants and shirt painfully achieved, John contemplated his feet. He tried to recall the surfaces between his room and the roof terraces and decided none were sufficiently knobbly or rough to concern him. Bare feet would be fine. This minimal level of dressing attained, John got up and hobbled to the door.

In the living area, Jennifer sat on one couch tapping at a data pad. Ronon lay snoring , stretched full length on the other.

Jennifer looked up and frowned.

"Colonel Sheppard," she said with an approaching severe weather warning in her voice, "why exactly are you up, dressed and heading for the door?" 

"Going to get some fresh air!" he replied, continuing to limp stiffly toward freedom.

"Oh no you're not!" she said, getting up and standing in his way. "You'll tear your stitches if you walk on that leg!"

"No I won't! Ronon'll help me, won't you, Ronon?"

"Huh?" said Ronon, blearily. "Oh, yeah, sure!" He got up and gave John his arm to lean on.

"Take him back into the bedroom, Ronon!" said Jennifer, glaring at John.

"Take me up to the garden, please, Ronon!" John said with totally false good-humour, glaring back at her.

Ronon stood, looking between the two. He was tempted to scoop both of them up and lock them in their respective rooms.

They continued to glare.

He could do it, easily. One over each shoulder.

John sagged slightly and dropped his gaze. Ronon recognised the tactic from Sheppard's dealings with Carson Beckett. It would be interesting to see if Keller would fall for it.

"Look," said John, with just the right amount of pathos in his voice, "I won't go far, I just want to sit on a bench somewhere and get some fresh air."

 _Here come the sad eyes_ , thought Ronon.

John looked up and met Jennifer's gaze. His mouth quirked up at one corner very slightly, in a hopeful manner.

Jennifer's face softened. "John, I really think you should go back to bed. You can have more painkillers if you need them."

John sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "I don't like painkillers. They make my head all fuzzy. Just a few minutes? You could come too?"

She's going to cave, thought Ronon.

"Well, I suppose, if you take it slow and let Ronon help," she conceded.

"Thanks, doc," said John, grinning.

oOo

Sitting on a bench in the shade, Ronon on one side of him, Jennifer on the other, John decided that while he was actually just as uncomfortable as he'd been in his room, here there were more distractions and distractions were good. There were some children playing something resembling football. John wondered how many balls they lost over the side of the column. There was a group of young women, heads together, deep in discussion. One of them looked up. He smiled and she smiled back and then turned back to her friends, laughing; there were then several surreptitious glances thrown in his direction and he tried to pretend he wasn't looking. There was an old man, shuffling toward a bench, muttering grumpily to himself.

His eyes fell on John and he stopped, changed course and made his unsteady way over to them.

"I won't be held responsible!" he said, waving a finger in John's face. "I warned them, but they just ignored me!"

"Er, sorry, but who ignored what?"

"Your friends!" the old man replied. "Ignored Jebra who's spent his life learning the secrets of the Archive! Down they went and then their friends followed them, all thinking they'll find their way out easily, no doubt! Well, they won't!" He nodded in satisfaction and shuffled away.

"I don't like the sound of that," John said.

"Someone followed them," said Ronon. "I'm going down there!"

John nodded. "You'll have to get the archivist to show you the way. You go too!" he said to Jennifer.

"I can't leave you here!" Jennifer protested. She lowered her voice, "You might be attacked again!"

"I'll be fine!" he said. "They won't try anything in full view. Anyway," he spoke uneasily, "I have a feeling Rodney and Teyla might need you."

Jebra was reluctant to make the trek down to the Archive once again, but was pacified by Jennifer, who linked her arm in his and gave her full attention to his detailed enumeration of various ailments and infirmities as they made their way slowly into the column's interior.

oOo

Rodney became aware that he was lying on a very hard surface, face down. His nose was squashed. He turned his head to one side, groaned and opened his eyes to complete darkness. _I'm blind!_ thought Rodney, _I've hit my head and now I'm blind!_ Then rational thought kicked in and he realised that, actually it was probably just dark. He sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his head and again when he set his left hand to the floor.

"Broken wrist, bound to be!" he said into the darkness. "And broken ribs! And probably a fractured skull!" He felt around on the floor. "I can't find the flashlight and if I do it'll be broken!" His hand felt a small, cylindrical shape. "Oh, there it is," he said. He pressed the button and the beam of the flashlight illuminated his surroundings. "Oh. Not broken, then."

He trained the flashlight on his wrist, which was beginning to swell. "That's definitely broken, though," he said with the satisfaction of a confirmed hypochondriac. He set the flashlight down in his lap and felt the side of his head, putting his fingers in the beam of light to see the bright, red blood from the cut. "Concussion too, no doubt," he remarked, wiping his fingers on his jacket. His hand then went unconsciously to a pocket and he drew out a power bar which he unwrapped with his teeth and began to eat. He surveyed his surroundings in the limited light, peering at the shelves and looking back up the steep flight of stairs that he'd tumbled down. He noted the catalogue markings on the shelf; they all began '4e'.

"Oh!" he said. "Found you! That means there must be another staircase around here somewhere that should lead me straight to the treasure!" He paused. "Maybe some sustenance before I look," then, glancing down at his hand, noticed the power bar wrapper. "Hmm, well another couldn't hurt," he said, searching his pockets. Having consumed a second power bar (he decided the strawberry and cranberry had the edge over the raspberry crisp), he got slowly to his feet, tucking his injured wrist into his jacket. He played the torch along the shelves up and down the passageway. There seemed to be an opening a little way along to the right, which proved to be a narrow wooden staircase, leading down.

"Bingo!" he said, wondering why he was so cheerful, lost, alone and hurt in a labyrinthine archive. "A bonus of the concussion?" He asked himself, giggling slightly. "C'mon, McKay, pull yourself together! You're gonna fall down these stairs too! Oh, that came out like Sheppard!" He giggled again, but took care as he began to slowly descend the uneven staircase.

The staircase had no exits and twisted and turned randomly; frequently there were gaps where he could see into book-filled rooms from strange angles, sometimes from high up, sometimes near the floor. Once he could have sworn he looked, Escher-like, down from the ceiling. Rodney blinked and moved on, putting it down to the concussion. The stairs creaked as he moved and it seemed to him that answering creaks came from other parts of the labyrinth. Still he descended.

The staircase ended in a blank wall. 

"No!" panicked Rodney. "Just... No! That's not happening, thank you very much! You're the way out, you...!" He kicked the wall ahead of him and was rewarded by a small movement. "Aha!" He put his shoulder to the wall, pushed and it swung away from him and out into the darkness.

Rodney nearly fell again. The narrow opening came out on a broad stairway leading up to his left and down to his right. 

"Between levels," he said to himself. "That would explain the 9e/8c." He stepped carefully out onto the stairway. The door closed behind him and he saw it was nearly invisible, merging in with the walls around him, covered in filled shelves. Rodney began searching. 

There were ancient scrolls detailing the colonisation of each of the columns, there were maps and diagrams, lists and catalogues. Rodney's eyes flicked from text to image to text and his head began to spin from the effects of his head injury and the dim light. He sat down in the middle of the staircase and put his head down on his knees.

"Just for a moment," he said to himself. His eyes began to close and his flashlight slipped from relaxed fingers. Its bouncing progress down the stairs woke Rodney and he slithered down after it, alarmed to think he might lose his only source of light and be left alone in the dark. The flashlight stopped and Rodney stopped too. The beam illuminated an unusual volume, slim and made of some shiny, white, almost translucent material. Rodney slid it out of the shelf. The text was in Ancient. He opened it and uttered his second "Bingo!" of the day.

Rodney leafed through the book awkwardly, one handed. It kept closing up and each time he lost his place, but he saw enough to recognise detailed schematics for some kind of system which should operate from the base of each column. He decided to find his way out before studying the document further and was tucking it inside his jacket when he heard sounds from both above and below. 

Rodney stood slowly and made his way back up the stairs as far as the hidden doorway. He listened, his breath shallow, his heart pounding. A creak came from below, from somewhere above the soft tap of a stealthy footsteps; then, the hidden door began to swing slowly toward him. He backed away until he was pressed against the opposite wall, the beam of his flashlight wildly swinging up and down the staircase. He had nowhere to go.


	8. Ronon's Way

Ronon was seething with impatience by the time they had reached the Archive. First Jennifer had had to fetch her medical kit from their quarters and then they had had to match Jebra's ponderous progress as he made his way into the depths of Central Halls. As soon as the door was unlocked, Ronon burst through, and was off down the corridor and clattering down the metal staircase before Jebra could utter his usual dire warnings. Jennifer followed at a slower pace, to find Ronon had stopped at the bottom of the staircase and was simply standing still.

"Where do we start?" said Jennifer, looking around at the multiple rooms and passageways. "There don't seem to be any directions."

"Ssh! Let me listen," said Ronon, shortly.

"OK, then, I'll just wait right here!" 

Ronon glared at her and she put a finger over her lips and stood motionless.

He closed his eyes and listened, getting a feel for the space he was in, letting his instincts take over. The Archive had similarities with a hive ship; its layout apparently random as if grown organically. He prowled a circuit round the room. Certain passageways felt deadened, closed-off; he thought they probably just looped back to the centre. From one he felt the faint movement of disturbed air.

"This way," he said and moved cautiously forward, blaster at the ready, motioning Jennifer to stay close to the wall behind him.

oOo

Rodney stared in fascinated horror at the opening door. His eyes darted up and down the stairs, but jumping beams of light had begun to illuminate the darkness both above and below him and he knew the flashlights' owners would not be far behind.

The door opened and another beam of light shone directly in his eyes.

"Rodney!" came Teyla's relieved voice from behind the light.

Rodney, blinking against the dots that danced in his vision, pushed Teyla ahead of him back into the narrow stairwell and pulled the door shut behind them.

"They're out there! They're coming!" he whispered.

"Who are coming, Rodney?" 

"I don't know! I don't want to know! Just go, back up, go on!" he urged her, waving his hands. Teyla turned and began to ascend, Rodney following, both trying to keep the noise of their footfalls to a minimum. They heard voices below and then the voices became suddenly louder as the secret door was opened. They heard the thunder of pursuing feet pounding up the stairs behind them and Rodney and Teyla abandoned their attempts at stealth and began to climb as fast as they could, Teyla, agile as always, Rodney scrambling and tripping in the darkness that was only relieved by the narrow, bouncing beams of their flashlights.

Rodney's breath was coming in gasps, his lungs straining, when he felt the sharp puff of air from a narrowly-missing projectile skim past his cheek and ahead of him a new spear of light from an adjacent room penetrated the darkness. He renewed his attempts to keep up with Teyla, heart pounding and breath now rasping in his throat. There was a pile of books in the angle of the next turn and he batted at it with one hand, sending the books spinning away behind him. They thudded heavily down the stairs, but the noise that followed was out of all proportion to the fall of a few books. A roaring explosion and the wall and the stairs just a few feet behind Rodney blew apart. He fell forward and lay, gasping, expecting his pursuers to leap upon him. Instead, from behind him came a familiar voice.

"McKay, you alive?"

Rodney looked over his shoulder to see Ronon, blaster in hand, perched precariously on the shattered staircase.

oOo

Ronon and Jennifer had made their way deep into the Archive. Ronon was aware of the labyrinthine nature of the place; he knew it would be easy to get lost, disoriented by the twists and turns, the similarity of the passageways and rooms, the way sound seemed to distort and confuse. He suspected the Ancients had planned it that way deliberately. But for Ronon, life wasn't all about playing other people's games; he liked to make his own rules and favoured a direct approach to most problems.

When he heard the rapid pounding of feet and traced the source to an unseen staircase adjacent to the room he was in, he listened carefully and readied his blaster. He closed his eyes once more, tuning in with absolute concentration to the patterns of sound. A light, rapid, sure-footed tread: that was Teyla. A heavy, uneven scramble: McKay. And then more distantly, but rapidly rising, two sets in a determined, rhythmic pounding. Without even opening his eyes, Ronon fired.

The resulting explosion fired splinters of wood and scraps of singed manuscripts out into the room in a satisfyingly destructive way. Ronon nodded once to himself and grinned. No labyrinth was getting the better of Ronon Dex! 

Jennifer had dropped behind a desk, hands over her head. She emerged to see Ronon nimbly inserting himself into the newly-made hole in the wall. Hearing him speaking, apparently to Rodney, she hurried over and, careful of jagged edges, peered inside. Ronon had disappeared down the staircase; Jennifer heard his blaster firing several times, presumably set to stun.

Above her, Rodney's pale face could be seen in the trembling beam of his flashlight.

"Rodney?" He didn't respond. "Rodney, are you alright?"

"Yes. No. Definitely no." He appeared to notice Jennifer properly for the first time. "Jennifer! What are you doing here?"

Teyla, sitting on the stairs above him, reached down and touched Rodney's shoulder.

"Rodney, can you climb out?" she said.

Rodney regarded the hole in the wall. "Out. Yes, I can get out." Jennifer moved back and Rodney awkwardly lowered himself through the hole and out into the room where Jennifer stood. She saw how stiffly he moved, his left wrist tucked into his jacket, blood down the side of his face.

"Sit," she said helping him into a chair. "Do you know what happened to him?" she said to Teyla who had emerged from the hole in the wall.

Teyla shook her head. "We became separated."

"Fell down some stairs," said Rodney. "I was trying to find Teyla. It was dark."

"We need to get you out of here," said Jennifer, taking a sling from her medical kit and carefully settling Rodney's injured wrist into it. 

Ronon casually swung himself back through the hole in the wall and stood, looking satisfied. "Caught them," he said.

"What did you do with them?" asked Jennifer.

"Stunned 'em. Tied 'em up," replied Ronon, waving a bunch of plastic ties that he kept in his pocket. "Useful things, these!"

As Jennifer helped Rodney up and they began to make their slow way back toward the entrance of the Archive, Teyla asked, "Did you recognise the men, Ronon?"

"Two of that guy N'Feni's friends," he said. 

"Don't feel so good!" said Rodney querulously.

"We'll soon be out of here and then you can lie down," said Jennifer.

Rodney stopped abruptly and looked around at his companions. "Where's Sheppard?" he said.

oOo

John was still sitting on a bench in the garden, studying his toes as he flexed and uncurled them against the hot paving. He was no longer sitting in the shade as the sun had travelled a considerable distance across the sky since Jennifer and Ronon had left him. He hoped they'd found Teyla and Rodney and were on their way back. 

The children had gone and so had the young women; John, in fact, was alone. The heat was beginning to make his head spin and his bruises had long since determinedly made their presence felt. Sweat was running into his eyes and he reached up and wiped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve. He knew he'd have to move or risk heat exhaustion.

He leant forward, gradually increasing the weight on his injured leg and made his way to standing. The world began to revolve but he was steadied by a firm grip on his arm.

"Allow me to assist."

John's blurred vision steadied and he found himself staring into the eyes of N'Kishra.

"Thanks," he said croakily and tried to clear his dry throat. "I think I can take it from here, though."

"Surely I can persuade you to accept my support, Colonel?" N'Kishra said with a pleasant smile. "The terraces have some mature shade trees that we could walk beneath and talk."

N'Kishra began to steer John toward the terraced area that ran along one edge of the column. 

"Well, actually, I was going to go back inside," said John. "Somebody dropped a rock on me yesterday, so... you know."

N'Kishra raised his eyebrows. "That sounds most unpleasant!" he said, increasing the firmness of his grip on John's arm.

"You're really keen to have that chat, aren't you?" said John, wondering what N'Kishra had in mind for him.

"I think there are certain matters that merit discussion," replied N'Kishra. 

The grip on John's arm was painfully tight and John's battered appearance had led N'Kishra to believe that he would be easily overcome. However, fighting his way out of a situation was one of the things John did best and, injured though he was, he knew that a decent jolt of adrenaline would allow him to ignore his pains and swiftly incapacitate his opponent. He would swing his free arm round and drive his elbow hard into N'Kishra's throat. N'Kishra would at that point release his other arm, which he would use to deliver a swift blow to the temple, just enough to stun. And John most certainly wasn't above using a knee in a crushing upward strike to a strategic area, which would finish the attack off nicely. This whole sequence of events would be delayed for now, though; there was useful information to be had and with this in mind, John feigned considerably more weakness than he was feeling and allowed himself to be steered along.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" John asked, stumbling and leaning against N'Kishra artistically. "What have you got against off-worlders?"

"Nothing! I have some very useful and profitable off-world contacts," replied N'Kishra, pulling John firmly over a smooth lawn and toward the parapet that bordered the sheer drop over the edge of the column.

"We're just here to study your technology and culture!" said John, struggling convincingly. He would have to make his move soon.

N'Kishra brought his snarling face close to John's. "Soon, both will be things of the past," he spat, "while I... I will rise to greater heights!" As he said this, his gaze flicked to the distant mountains. He forced John up against the stone parapet and John knew his time had run out.

A laughing voice rang out in the still air and a young boy ran across the grass and picked up a ball that was lying in the shade of the parapet.

"Here it is!" he called, looking over his shoulder at the young woman who was trailing after him.

Then he looked up at John and N'Kishra, doubtfully.

John saw a brief flash of indecision in N'Kishra's eyes, and then he released John's arm and stepped away with a rueful smirk. He would happily have eliminated John, but to dispose of the two young witnesses was a step too far.

"You like football?" John said to the boy.

He nodded and ran back to his sister. John followed, unwilling to lose sight of his two protectors. The young woman was one of the group that had smiled at John earlier and he fell easily into conversation with her and accompanied them back across the gardens and down into the safety of the interior.


	9. Strategy

Jennifer Keller dropped heavily onto one of the couches and let out an exasperated sigh. She was glad to have finished dealing with her two patients for now and wondered how she'd managed to keep her temper with either of them. Rodney, was as usual, full of drama and predicting dire consequences because she didn't have the full facilities of the infirmary to devote to his care, while the Colonel, who had arrived back at their rooms barely able to walk, leaning heavily on two helpful young J'Bari, was still insisting he was 'fine' and determined to set off to find the Council to make sure the two men who had pursued Rodney and Teyla were dealt with.

Jennifer had dressed the cut on Rodney's head, bound his sprained wrist, given him some painkillers for his bruises and told him to rest. Then she had moved onto John, who had, as predicted, torn some of the stitches in his leg and was dehydrated. Fortunately, John had fallen asleep face down on the bed as she was finishing rebandaging his leg, so she didn't have to face another argument with him.

The door banged open and Ronon slouched into the room, kicked a chair hard so that it tipped over, righted it and sat down, elbows on his knees, glaring stormily at the floor. Teyla followed, shutting the door gently with icy self-control, sat down opposite Ronon and took a long, slow calming breath.

Jennifer looked between the two of them.

"So? What did the Council say?"

"Youthful high spirits!" Teyla said with a rueful smile. "They meant no harm!"

"Bullet hole says they did," said Ronon.

"So, they're not going to do anything?" Jennifer asked.

"The men will be made to tidy up and repair the damage to the Archive," said Teyla, "but that is all."

Jennifer looked troubled. "It's like the Council don't want to see what's in front of them."

"Fools," muttered Ronon.

"They are complacent," said Teyla. "They feel themselves to be safe because it has always been so. My people have never had such luxury."

"Well, Rodney found what he was looking for in the Archive," said Jennifer. "We'll wait until they both wake up and decide what to do."

oOo

The strategy meeting was held in John's bedroom, in deference to his restitched leg. Rodney, who had wanted the meeting to be in his room because he was sure he was in much more pain than John, sat down next to John on the bed, and spread out the pages of the manuscript he had discovered. Ronon, Teyla and Jennifer perched or knelt on either side.

"This here is a cross-section of the base of one of the columns," said Rodney, pointing to the page. "It shows how the geo-thermal energy is used to run the system, so no ZPM is needed. This diagram here shows the controls, and then subsequent sections," he flicked the pages over rapidly, "give detailed schematics for the control crystals, power conduits... basically the full details of the defense system."

"But what does it actually do?" said John.

"It seems to be a hybrid between a cloak and a shield," said Rodney. "When activated, the columns would appear from the outside to be simply uninhabited rock formations."

"The system is controlled from the base of each tower?" queried Teyla. "Then the Ancients did not mean for the J'Bari to have access to the controls?"

"Apparently not," said Rodney. "Although, there is in fact, a simple technique for getting past our friends the ground-dwelling beasts!"

"Is there?" said John shifting his injured leg uncomfortably. "I wish I'd known it yesterday!"

"Well, it wouldn't have done you any good unless you'd had me with you. Look here," Rodney pointed to a section of Ancient text. "These Ancient numerals convert to a sound wave frequency, what we'd call twenty thousand Hertz, the limit of human hearing, that is in a young person. I doubt if any of us would be able to hear that frequency."

"So what, a sound kills them?" said Ronon hopefully.

"No, it probably just hurts their ears or makes them go to sleep or something," replied Rodney.

"Do they even have ears?" John asked.

"They must have ears because how would they hear otherwise?" said Rodney impatiently. "Listen!" He picked up his datapad from the bed next to him and tapped rapidly then sat back, looking around at them.

"Listen to what?" said Ronon.

"Twenty thousand Hertz!" said Rodney, grinning. "I knew we wouldn't be able to hear it! But apparently the beasts can. And they don't like it."

John sat, thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip.

"We need to get down there, have a look see what our friend N'Kishra's been up to," said John. "And I think we need to take a look at the mountains."

"The mountains? Why?" asked Rodney.

"Well, put it this way, I don't think that guy would be much of a poker player," John said. "He's hiding something out there."

"Well I just don't see how we can do anything at the moment," said Jennifer. "The Colonel's the only one of us who can fly those gliders and he is not going anywhere for at least a couple of days!" She glared at John as she spoke. "And neither are you, Rodney."

oOo

With John and Rodney temporarily out of action, Ronon and Teyla decided to put their time to good use. Ronon sauntered off in search of exercise; ideally some kind of sparring would be good, but anything energetic would do, and maybe he'd pick up some useful gossip along the way.

Teyla went in search of N'Sira and, having found her, asked where N'Kishra lived and if it might be possible to gain access to his apartment

"I don't know about that!" said N'Sira, looking flustered. "I know you and your friends don't like him, well, he's not well-liked among the J'Bari, to be truthful, but such a powerful man, a member of the Council...!"

"Surely there must be an innocent way to visit," encouraged Teyla. "He is married, is he not?"

"Yes, he has a wife," said N'Sira, doubtfully. "Her name is Ch'ran. She is generally pitied; to be married to such a man!"

"Could we not pay a social visit?" suggested Teyla.

"Yes, we could do that," agreed N'Sira.

"And you can distract her while I search for evidence of her husband's guilt!" said Teyla with relish.

oOo

Ronon stood watching the game; Sheppard had shown him various Earth games, brought on DVD across the vastness of space by the Daedalus. This game, played in a court surrounded by high netting, looked like a cross between volleyball and football. There was a high central net, across which the players were passing the ball and it seemed points were scored when the ball hit the ground; so far, so volleyball-like. The difference, and what made the game appealing to Ronon, was that the teams were split so that half of a team's players were on one side of the net and half on the other. This led to parallels with football, in that tackling was allowed. There seemed to be very few other rules and the young men playing were taking full advantage of this fact; injuries were frequent.

The next time a player came off, nose streaming with blood, Ronon strolled onto the court and joined in. He was welcomed enthusiastically for his height alone and when the other players witnessed the vigour of his tackles and the fact that he managed to fell opposing players at such an angle that the ball usually flew out of their hands towards players on his own team, he was even more welcome.

Ronon's team won the game seventy-two points to eighteen, which sounded good to Ronon even though he hadn't been paying much attention to the scoring system. Of more importance to him than the ball hitting the ground in the right place was the number of opponents he'd managed to send wincing and limping to the sidelines. They didn't seem to bear him a grudge and a large group of the players invited Ronon to go with them to a canteen area a few levels down where they continued to be impressed with Ronon, this time for the size of his appetite and tails of Wraith-hunting.

oOo

Teyla enjoyed the ceremony of tea-drinking. She enjoyed the way it varied between cultures, but always retained enough similarity to make it a calming ritual; the precise measuring out of tea leaves, the carefully boiled fresh water, the stirring, often a specific number of turns to either direction. She usually enjoyed the conversation that accompanied the ritual; pleasantly ordinary domestic matters that were a welcome contrast to the excitement and danger of Teyla's everyday life.

Today, however, she had been bored to the point of frustration. N'Kishra's wife, Ch'ran, was a mouse-like woman, who seemed afraid to speak except in the most mundane of platitudes. As they left, Teyla felt she needed a good workout with her bantos rods as a contrast.

"I am sorry there was no opportunity for you to gather any evidence," said N'Sira, as they walked away.

Teyla smiled. "Actually, I have what I need," she said. "I observed significant evidence of illegal off-world trade."

"You did?" 

"Did you observe the artwork on display?" asked Teyla. "My people have good trade relations with many worlds, and there were items in N'Kishra's apartment that could only have been obtained through smuggling or other illicit avenues. Not least several Athosian family heirlooms, which we would under no circumstances trade away from our people."

"So, what does that mean?" asked N'Sira, puzzled.

"It is not conclusive proof," admitted Teyla, "but it suggests that N'Kishra has dubious off-world contacts. I would be surprised if his dealings are limited to trading in illegal artwork."

oOo

Ronon brought the conversation round to N'Feni, N'Kishra's son. At first the young men seemed reluctant to comment.

"His father has a lot of power," said one.

"He always seems to have the best of everything," said another.

"He was in the race the other day, right?" asked Ronon.

"Yes, and was he annoyed about only coming third!" said a young man named Al'Sabra.

"Well you and J'Kira here," said another, nudging the youth next to him, "had a chance because N'Feni's friend wasn't with him to do the usual dirty work!"

"N'Feni cheats?" Ronon asked.

"Yeah, he and that guy D'ara cut people up, drive them out of the best airstreams, basically do what they have to to win."

"It isn't the J'Bari way!" said one youth, rather pompously, but to a general chorus of agreement.

The young men began to say their goodbyes and drift away, but the two joint race-winners stayed.

Al'Sabra looked at Ronon and leant toward him conspiratorially.

"They go flying together at night," he said.

"So?" said J'Kira. "Can be dangerous, but what's wrong with that?"

"It's the sneaky way they do it," continued Al'Sabra. "I've seen them, looking around, checking nobody's watching. They take out a tandem and one night I waited for them to come back. They were a good while and they brought something back with them."

"What?" asked Ronon.

"Couldn't see," Al'Sabra shrugged. "Things in a bag. They rattled."

Ronon looked thoughtful.

"Could you two do a job for me?" asked Ronon. "Keep an eye on those two? Tell me if they do any more night flying?"

Al'Sabra and J'Kira looked at each other, pleased to be given a special assignment.

"We can do that," said Al'Sabra.

"And maybe in return you could teach us how you tackle?" asked J'Kira.

"It's a deal," Ronon replied.


	10. Night Flight

The afternoon strategy meeting took place in the living area where John, Rodney, Jennifer and Hadra had been having lunch. Both John and Rodney were feeling much better, which Jennifer was keen to remind them was because they'd been following her orders for a change. John sat with his leg propped up on a stool, which was awkward for eating his lunch and he'd managed to get several blobs of a hummus-like substance on his t-shirt and was trying to scrape them up with a piece of flatbread, when Ronon came in, closely followed by Teyla.

"You eating that, or wearing it, Sheppard?" said Ronon, with a smirk.

"Oh, ha ha," John responded sourly. He decided that his t-shirt was as good as it was going to get and popped the scrap of bread into his mouth.

"So," he said, chewing, "report?"

When Teyla and Ronon had shared their findings, John looked thoughtful. 

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious what that pond life has been up to!" said Rodney. "Whatever defenses the J'Bari had are long gone! Sold off-world to line his pockets... or something."

"We need to get down to the ground and take a look," said John. "We need to have proof and we need it soon." He looked around at his team. "He knows we're onto him. He'll run. Or worse."

"So what's the plan?" said Ronon.

"Rodney needs to go because he needs to check out the technology," said John.

"How? I can't exactly abseil!" said Rodney, waving his sprained wrist.

"No, that's why I'll fly you down there," said John.

Jennifer looked concerned but John silenced her protests. "This has got to be done," he said. "If these people really are defenceless and the Wraith target them..."

"You can fly down there; how're you getting back up?" asked Ronon.

"I think a variation on your rope trick from the other day," said John. "We need a window on one of the lower levels and we need to rig up some kind of winch. It'll have to have some kind of quick release so you can let us go when we're high enough to launch."

"I can design that," said Rodney, picking up his datapad from the table and tutting at John when he saw a blob of hummus had been dropped on it. John tried to look innocent.

"My apartment is on the lowest level," said Hadra. "You can use one of my windows."

"Great, thanks Hadra," said John.

Rodney began conferring with Hadra over the materials and tools he'd need, Hadra wisely deferring to Rodney and rushing off to see what he could find.

John noticed Jennifer watching him, unhappily. "You shouldn't be doing this, you know," she said. "If you were on Atlantis I wouldn't have even released you for light duties yet."

"I know, I'd be chained to an infirmary bed," said John. "But things aren't like that in the field. Anyway, I'm resting now, aren't I?"

"See that you continue to rest!" said Jennifer firmly, getting up. "I'm going to see if I can find the medical facility here and get you some crutches."

oOo

A bright full moon shone when John and Rodney launched their tandem glider from a discreet area behind the volley/football court. They had made clumsy work of getting into the glider harnesses, John having to balance on one leg and Rodney with his sprained wrist and trying to carry his datapad and John's crutches. Instead of running down one of the glider ramps they had to get Ronon to give them a good, hard shove to launch and Rodney found the initial precipitous swoop terrifying until John brought the glider under control and began a slow spiralling descent around the perimeter of Central Halls.

Rodney had already set his datapad to emit a frequency of twenty thousand Hertz, so they hoped not to have any trouble with the engulfing ground monsters. As they descended they passed the window where Ronon and Hadra had spent a busy afternoon constructing and installing a winch mechanism to Rodney's exacting requirements. Then there were no more windows and John took the glider away from Central Halls a little so that they could begin to study the base of the column and look for a likely entrance. They'd completed almost two more circuits when Rodney spotted what looked like a vertical fold in the rock at ground level, the outer edge curving round parallel to the main wall, leaving what looked like a good place for a hidden entrance. John took the glider on another circuit to lose more height and then tried hard to bring it in for a gentle landing.

"You need to try to take most of the weight, Rodney," he said, holding his injured leg up, knee bent.

"I'll do my best!" replied Rodney.

John eased back on the wings feeling the air resistance gradually build and brought the glider down softly, just next to the hidden entrance. He allowed the wings to sag and noticed how much his back, ribs and arms were aching; he'd definitely not yet recovered from his fall. He shrugged his way out of the harness with difficulty and then helped Rodney out of his. Rodney picked up the crutches from where he'd dropped them and gave them to John who took them gratefully. 

"Still got that frequency going?" asked John.

Rodney checked his datapad. "Still going," he said, looking round nervously. "Hope it works."

"I think we'd know about it by now if it didn't," said John.

They left the glider on the ground and went to investigate what they hoped was the hidden entrance.

oOo

Ronon was heading down to Hadra's apartment to get ready to man the winch when he heard quick footsteps echoing down the corridor toward him.

"Ronon!"

He turned to see J'Kira skid to a halt in front of him and stop, gasping for breath, hands on his knees.

"N'Feni!" he said. "He and D'ara. They flew off in a tandem about half an hour ago. Al'Sabra's watching out for them."

"Good work, J'Kira," said Ronon. Ronon knew he was needed to pull up John and Rodney. But he'd have time to prepare a reception committee for N'Feni and his friend.

oOo

John and Rodney cautiously stepped round the curve of the rock to see a dark tunnel leading deep beneath the bulk of Central Halls. Rodney took out his flashlight and switched it on, John needing both hands for his crutches. The passageway wound erratically into the rock for about twenty yards and then would have ended at an Atlantis-style double door. The door controls had been shattered by some kind of weapon, the doors forced apart so that they hung crookedly on their hinges. Sand had blown in across the threshold.

As they stepped inside lights reluctantly flickered to life to reveal a large, round room in the centre of which was a recognisably Ancient console. To one side pipes led down into the floor and there was a hatchway next to them which looked like it could be lifted to gain access to an underground level.

"Geo-thermal energy," said Rodney.

To the back of the console, conduits led up to the ceiling, fanning out to disappear into the walls, presumably leading up to cover all of the entrances to the vast column.

Rodney began examining the console, pressing keys, but receiving no response. He crouched down on the floor and noticed the front panel had been removed and not replaced properly. John leant on his crutches and watched Rodney remove the panel, look inside and sigh heavily.

"As suspected," he said. "Control crystals gone."

"Could they be replaced?" asked John. "From our spares, I mean?"

"Maybe," said Rodney. He drew out one of the trays and examined the empty spaces. "I could work out what's supposed to go in here from the diagrams, but it's a complicated custom-built system. Whether we'd have anything that would do the job is debatable. And if we did whether we could spare the parts."

"Okay, we've seen what we need to see," said John. "And I'm guessing most, if not all of the other columns are the same. Let's get back."

They retraced their steps back down the winding passageway and out into the night, Rodney checking that his datapad was still emitting the correct frequency. Arriving back at the glider, Rodney said, "So, how do we get this thing to the winch?"

John sagged in his crutches. "I guess we didn't think this part through too well, did we?"

"How far have we got to go?" 

"Hopefully not more than a couple of hundred yards," said John. "Look, I'll get one wing and just use one crutch, you get the other wing."

They awkwardly arranged themselves either side of the glider and began to drag it along, haltingly, over the sandy, rocky surface.

oOo

A tandem glider touched lightly down in the gardens of central hall. The two occupants extracted themselves from the harnesses, the passenger carefully holding a bag in one hand, the contents clinking together as he moved. They were about to pick up the glider between them when bright flashlight beams sprung out of the darkness, making the two men fling up their arms to protect their eyes.

"N'Feni and D'ara!" came a voice from behind one of the flashlights. "Hand over the bag!"

The two men hesitated, looking around for means of escape. The ring of flashlights closed in, and they could see members of the Council behind them. They were trapped. D'ara held out the bag.

oOo

By the time John and Rodney reached the dangling rope that hung down the side of the column, swaying in a gentle breeze, they had both had enough of dragging the heavy glider. Both had stumbled more than once and their injuries were making themselves painfully felt.

"Okay, let's hook this thing up and get ourselves a lift," said John wearily.

They fastened the rope onto a hook that had been installed on top of the glider and then gave the rope a quick jerk, which was Ronon's signal to pull it up just a little way so that they could arrange themselves in the harnesses. They awkwardly slid in and made themselves secure once more and then turned to face the column, the idea being that they'd walk up the side of the column high enough to catch a breeze and then release the rope and glide. Rodney wasn't particularly happy about this arrangement but was becoming too tired to make his feelings known.

John jumped up and down to jerk the rope and they felt themselves begin to rise up the side of the column and leant back against the pull of the rope, putting their feet against the rocky wall.

The plan worked surprisingly well. John felt the wind rising the higher they went up the side of the column until it was curling around behind the wings and lifting their feet off the rock face. He climbed just a little further and then said to Rodney, "That's enough, I'm going to walk sideways to head into the wind, you follow!"

"Just do it quickly," said Rodney, who had his eyes closed again.

John shuffled so that the glider was facing around the column and then yelled up to Ronon to release them, hoping he'd hear over the now roaring wind.

He heard the click as the winch rope was released and suddenly they were falling. Rodney made a strangled squeak but John could feel the pressure of the wind and knew it would support them. He brought the glider round to soar away from the column and made for the nearest volcanic pool, visible in the moonlight but also glowing with a faint phosphorescence. 

The air had a strange feel at night; unsettling eddies made the glider rise and fall unexpectedly as hot and cold air circulated from the ground. John managed to navigate their way successfully to the warm volcanic air and they rose steadily until they were overlooking Central Halls and would be able to make a landing on the roof gardens. Both John and Rodney thought longingly of some food, their beds and maybe a few of Jennifer's best painkillers.

A shape flitted out of a broad window, moonlight highlighting its contours; a glider, a sleek, fast craft for just one occupant. It banked and turned, heading away from Central Halls and toward the mountains.

Suddenly John knew who it was.

"Look, McKay! It's N'Kishra, he's running!"

John had expected Rodney to protest, but all he said was, "Go! Get after him! We can't let him get away with this!"

John set course to follow, aiming to keep his height. The longer N'Kishra was oblivious to their pursuit, the better their chances of catching him would be.


	11. Pursuit

They flew on into the night, pain and exhaustion forgotten, adrenaline fuelling their pursuit. John had to concentrate hard to fly in the confusing night air currents and Rodney kept a sharp eye out for volcanic pools, increasingly difficult to spot as the sky became more and more cloudy and the moonlight obscured. This worked to their advantage in one way, in that N'Kishra, looking back during his own spiralling ascents would be less likely to spot them; they only kept N'Kishra in sight because they knew he was there and they knew he was heading for the mountains.

They passed the Needles and uplifting thermals became even fewer and further between. John coaxed as much height as he could out of each one and tried to minimise his downward trajectory after he pulled out of the air current. He guessed N'Kishra would have to do the same.

After several hours John felt a change in the air and looking down, could see the land was less even; they were above the foothills of the mountains. There was a very faint glimmer of light on the horizon; the approaching dawn. This was the coldest hour of the night and John was struggling to maintain his height, but so was N'Kishra, who seemed to be dropping lower and lower and eventually flew out of site into a shallow valley.

"We'll put down here," said John, heading for the near side of the shallow hill that N'Kishra had disappeared behind. "Ready?"

"Yeah, sure, ready," said Rodney, his face uncomfortably stiff and cold from the hours of flight.

They drifted down and came to a stumbling halt, collapsing awkwardly beneath the wings and struggling to extricate themselves. John sat on the ground, flexing his stiff arms and Rodney stamped up and down in place, trying to wake up his sluggish circulation.

The terrain was rough scrubland; thorn bushes and tinder-dry grasses on bone dry, compacted earth. They climbed up to the brow of the hill, crawling the last few yards to peer over the crest. Below them was a ship; not a type of ship they had seen before. Not large, but a few times bigger than a Puddle Jumper, streamlined, but not as narrow as a Wraith dart. Not a gateship, but potentially with a hyperdrive; certainly a ship that N'Kishra felt he could make a getaway in, apparently without the rest of his family.

John gestured Rodney forward and they ran over the brow of the hill, bending low, using the cover of the thorn bushes. John's leg twinged with pain; he'd had to leave his crutches, thinking he'd have a better chance of remaining hidden in the uneven terrain without them. They made their way down the side of the shallow hill, one at a time, alternating covering the ship with their Berettas and dashing from one clump of thorn bushes to the next.

They were soon close enough to the irridescent red-blue hull of the ship to see a hatch in its smooth side. Rodney whispered to John: "Now what?"

John shrugged. "Go in. Confront him!"

They ran out of the cover of the thorns, flattening themselves against the side of the ship either side of the hatch. They peered into the ship, Berettas at the ready. Ahead of them was a smooth corridor with walls slightly curved. They stepped forward carefully, John steadier on his feet, feeling the flow of adrenaline rather than pain, Rodney, his sprained wrist forgotten.

The corridor turned a sharp left and John flattened himself against the wall again, Rodney behind him. He cautiously moved out, weapon at the ready but before he could see what was round the corner he felt a crushing blow on his wrists, his Beretta flew out of his hands and he was dragged round the corner. He felt something hit his wounded leg hard; it crumpled beneath him and he found himself looking up into the face of N'Kishra. Rodney then barrelled around the corner, firing his Beretta repeatedly, but all he acheived was a series of dry clicks.

N'Kishra smiled, nastily. "Don't bother, your weapon was disabled as soon as you entered my ship!"

Rodney stared, mouth drooping in dismay.

"Well, I don't think much of this attempt to bring me to justice! Two poorly armed men, both injured. You'll have to do better than that."

He drew a weapon from his belt. "This weapon, I can assure you, is live," he said. "Now, move!"

He jerked his head, indicating for them to move further into the bridge where there were various control panels and displays showing the surrounding terrain and a star map with a plotted course.

John struggled to get his legs under him, limped a few paces and fell, catching himself on one of the consoles. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his leg once more.

Rodney was distracted by the unfamiliar technology. Unfamiliar, but reasonably straightforward, as far as he could tell. The console beneath the star map contained the controls for the hyperdrive. It was already switched on and Rodney guessed it was a temperamental system that had to be initialised an hour or so before a jump was to be made. He backed away from N'Kishra, leaning against the console as if in fear.

"You won't get away with this, N'Kishra!" said John, between gritted teeth.

"What do you mean, I won't get away with it?" sneered N'Kishra. "I've been getting away with it for years, harvesting the Ancient crystals, selling them off-world and investing a nice, fat profit. And now I can leave this wasteland and choose myself a new life, a life of luxury and power!"

John hauled himself painfully upright. "You've condemned the J'Bari, your own people! You've left them open to culling by the Wraith! Men, women, children, your own family!"

N'Kishra shrugged. "It is regrettable that I had to make a quick exit and leave them, but... life goes on!" He smirked, "or at least it does for some of us!"

"If you kill us our friends will track you down! You'll never escape!" snarled John.

"Well, you know I don't think I will kill you!" said N'Kishra lightly. "I have no wish to be pursued by the might of Atlantis and really, you can't stop me now! Go! Get out! You can make your way back to Central Halls and... deliver my best wishes to the Council and my sincere regrets to my wife and son. Yes," he said with satisfaction, "somebody should make my farewells for me!" His voice changed, losing its bantering quality: "Get out, before I change my mind!"

Rodney moved forward swiftly, put an arm round John's waist and began hustling him out of the ship. They reached the turn in the corridor, and Rodney became more insistent, practically dragging John along. At the hatch he said, "We have to run!"

"Rodney, I can't!" John ground out through his teeth.

"Yes, you can!" insisted Rodney. "I've overloaded his hyperdrive; it's going to blow up!"

An extra surge of adrenaline gave John the strength to run. They scrambled, slipped, staggered back up the side of the hill, thorns tearing at their clothes and skin, and threw themselves down just the over the crest of the hill, arms over their heads. The explosion was terrifyingly huge. Debris rained down all around John and Rodney and set light to the dry grasses and thorn bushes with frightening rapidity.

"We have to move!" said John, hauling himself and Rodney up. "The fire's spreading!"

With no strength to drag the glider and nowhere to launch from, they had to leave it and try to outrun the spreading flames on foot. The smoke from the burning vegetation and the thick, black, chemical fumes from the ship pursued them across the landscape. Soon it seemed as if there was nowhere for them to go, but Rodney gestured up the hill to a rocky outcrop where there was nothing to burn. Rodney scrambled up the side, lowering his arm to pull John roughly up after him. They crawled up the sloping rock and sat, leaning against each other at its highest point, surrounded by a sea of flame.

Rodney looked at John, his face blackened, shoulders and head drooping, hands wrapped round his leg and a grimace of pain on his face. John turned and looked back into Rodney's wide, terrified eyes, his injured wrist clutched to his chest, his posture rigid with fear.

They were both coughing and choking in the poisonous atmosphere, unable to get a proper breath, but John managed to say, "You did good, Rodney, you stopped him."

The two friends slumped together on the rock, the flames licking up its sides, the heat increasing steadily. John felt there was no escape this time. But just before he passed out, he thought he heard Rodney's dry, croaking voice say the strangest thing: "The eagles are coming!"


	12. Rescue and Resolution

They were not eagles, but two tandem gliders, swooping down through the smoke and fumes to pluck John and Rodney from the rock where they were stranded. Rodney felt a hard jerk on the front of his tac vest and he was suddenly flying through the air, something gripping him under his arms. He struggled and coughed, until he heard Ronon's voice: "Stop moving, McKay, or I'll drop you!". Rodney allowed himself to dangle uncomfortably, hoping that he wouldn't have to hang like this for long. He felt his consciousness drifting but then his head jerked up.

"Where's Sheppard?" he said, alarm in his voice.

"Hadra's got him, they're in front of us," replied Ronon. "We're nearly upwind of the fire. I'll set you down soon."

The next thing Rodney knew he was lying on the hard ground, tough, dry grass scratching the back of his neck. He began to choke again and sat up, coughing convulsively. He felt something hard against his lips and someone was giving him water and helping him lie back down again. He turned his head to one side and saw John on the ground next to him, face pale beneath the black soot and reddening scorch marks. John's eyes briefly flickered open.

"Eagles..." he croaked.

"Lord of the Rings," Rodney rasped out.

John smiled and then his eyes closed again.

oOo

John became aware of something hard covering his mouth and nose. He reached up a hand to push it off, but felt someone push his hand back down and heard Jennifer Keller's voice.

"Leave it alone, Colonel," she said. "You're suffering from smoke inhalation. You need the oxygen."

John opened his eyes to see Jennifer leaning over him, and to his surprise, the roof of a Jumper above her head.

"What? How?" His voice came as a muffled croak through the plastic of the mask.

"They let us bring a Jumper through," smiled Jennifer. "I think the Council have realised they're going to need our help so they were okay about us using a Jumper to bring you home. We're nearly at the Gate."

"Rodney?" John asked.

Jennifer gestured to the other bench, where a scratched, scorched Rodney could be seen, face covered with a mask in the same way as John's.

"Who's flying?" asked John.

"Major Lorne," replied Jennifer.

Satisfied, John let exhaustion claim him and was aware of nothing more until he woke to the familiar environment of the Atlantis infirmary. His throat still felt sore, his chest tight and his leg, propped up on pillows, ached, but he felt clean and the oxygen mask was gone. He turned his head to see Rodney in the bed next to him, sitting up, tapping away at a laptop.

John tried to speak but just managed to utter a raspy croak. Rodney turned toward him nevertheless and said, "Finally! Colonel Sleepyhead's awake! Thought I was going to have to start flicking water at you!"

John hauled himself up and picked up the cup of water on the table next to him. He took a sip, cleared his throat and said, "Any time you want a water fight, just say the word, McKay!"

"Are you two bickering already?" said Jennifer, approaching their beds.

"Look at it as a good sign!" said John. "We're feeling better!"

"Good to see you awake, Colonel. I'll let Colonel Carter know. I think she's quite keen to debrief."

oOo

"So, you can use the crystals that were retrieved from N'Feni that night, to put the defenses back in place in the Central Halls column?" confirmed Sam.

Rodney, nodded and then spoke through a mouthful of sandwich. "Yes, I can get that up and running as soon as I get out of here." He waved his sandwich to indicate the infirmary in general. "And there might be a possibility that we could cobble something together to defend one of the other columns."

"That would still leave the J'Bari short, though," said John scraping the spoon round to get the last of his dessert. "They'd all have to crowd into just two columns permanently on the off-chance the Wraith come a-culling."

"It's still a better system than most worlds have," said Sam. "And there's always the possibility that they could track down more of their crystals."

"Teyla's on it," said Rodney, starting on his dessert. "With her trade contacts, you never know what she'll turn up. And," he added," waving his spoon, "she tells me N'Kishra's wife has handed over all the ill-gotten artworks so they've got something to trade, as well as giving Teyla the Athosian pieces to return to their rightful owners."

"Well, that's a start!" said John, yawning.

"I think I'll leave you to get some rest," said Sam, getting up. She turned away, but then turned back and looked at John and then Rodney. "I mean it - rest! No charging off on rescue missions, not even a casual stroll to a balcony until Dr Keller gives you permission!"

They looked at her innocently. Sam shook her head and walked away.

Rodney turned to John. "Balcony? Fresh air?"

"No, thanks, McKay, I think my leg's had enough stitches for now," said John.

oOo

Several days later a jumper shot through the J'Bari gate and was brought in for a gentle landing at the foot of Central Halls.

"Beast-quelling frequency?" said John.

"Emitting nicely, thank you!" replied Rodney.

John released the hatch and Rodney picked up his pack. As they entered the passageway leading into the base of the column, John noticed lights flicker on one by one and at the end of the passageway the doors had been reinstated and the door control fixed so that when he waved his hand over it, it opened smoothly.

"Looks like Zelenka and your Marine minions have got on with their jobs!" said Rodney.

"Yeah, this place is looking good!" agreed John. "Now you just need to get it working!"

"Give me half an hour!" said Rodney, setting his pack down on the floor and pulling off the front panel of the console.

John sat down, leaning back against the wall. His leg was much better, but still needed regular rest. He watched Rodney work, ate a power bar, throwing one to Rodney, who ate it without even seeming to notice, and he was just debating a second power bar when Rodney sat back looking satisfied. 

"Done!" he said.

"Okay," said John. "Er... how do you know? How do you know it'll work?"

"Look," said Rodney, standing up. He pointed to various controls and displays on the console. "It detects any Wraith ships that enter the atmosphere or come through the gate and triggers automatically. First the cloak component and then after a short delay, the shielding comes online. That way the J'Bari have a few minutes to get under cover before the column seals."

"Cool," said John. "But nothing we haven't already got, right?"

"Well the system works a bit differently, but no, not really any different to the cloaks and shields we already have."

"What about the gliders? Is there anything we can use from those?"

Rodney looked thoughtful. "Well, they are a bit of a mystery," he said. "But we know the Ancients brought the Wraith into being in the first place, so this looks like a technology the Ancients were experimenting with which the Wraith eventually made their own."

"So, do you think we could use it?"

"Maybe, if the J'Bari will let us take one," said Rodney.

John looked thoughtful.

oOo

Another celebratory banquet was in progress and this time Ronon felt that he could almost be happy with his weapons actually out of reach. The atmosphere was friendly and welcoming and even N'Feni and his troublemaking friends were sufficiently chastened and ashamed to provide no threat. Ronon noticed Teyla chatting animatedly to N'Sira and even the small, mousey Ch'ran was beginning to bloom away from her husband's influence, giggling behind her hand at a story Teyla was telling her.

Colonel Carter was also at the banquet and judging by her reaction to the food available was about to negotiate a trade agreement for the dates that flourished in the J'Bari gardens.

Al'Sabra and J'Kira were guests of honour, having piloted the tandem gliders that rescued John and Rodney. They were not so much interested in the feast, however, as keen to tear Ronon away so that he could show them some of his tackling techniques. As Ronon allowed himself to be pulled away, he glanced over at John and Rodney. John was looking very pleased about something, his quirky grin climbing mischievously up the side of his face. Rodney was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Ronon shrugged and left them to it.

oOo

"Ready?" asked John.

"No, not ready, I'll never be ready!" replied Rodney.

"C'mon, McKay, this'll be great!"

"No, it won't!" 

"Well, I'm running, and you're coming with me!"

John ran, and Rodney, with no choice in the matter, ran with him, along the shallow balcony above the Jumper bay and out into the turbulent updraft that rose up the side of the control tower. John felt the glider surge and buck in the buffeting wind, heard Rodney's squeal of terror, but, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, by pure instinct, he banked, swooped and turned into a smooth, controlled descent toward the lower city. 

"You can open your eyes now, Rodney!" 

"Are you sure? No more ups and downs and sideways, because, seriously my lunch and your hair nearly got up close and personal just then!"

"Just open them, Rodney!"

So he did. And it was beautiful. They soared among the graceful towers and spires of the most wonderful city in two galaxies, soft blue sky above them, curious seabirds swooping around them and in the distance the deep blue of the ocean.

"I think maybe I'm starting to get it!" Rodney shouted, above the roar of the wind in his ears.

"Get what?" asked John.

"Why you love it so much. Flight."

John smiled, considered rewarding Rodney with a precipitous dive, but instead carried on, to take his friend smoothly all the way down to a gentle landing on the East pier where Teyla and Ronon were waiting.


End file.
